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COPHRIGHT DEPOSm 



THE FIELDS 
OF PEACE 

POEMS AND BALLADS 
EMMA FRANCES LEE SMITH 




BOSTON 

RICHARD G. BADGER 

THE GORHAM PRESS 



COPYBIOHT, 1919, BY EmMA F. L. SmITH 



All Rights Reserved 



Made in the United States of America 



The Gorham Press, Boston, U.S.A. 



MAR 10 1919 

©CI.A5I2551 



CONTENTS 

PAGE 

The Fields of Peace 7 

The Mother in Heaven 9 

The Heart of the Child ..... 21 

" And Martha Served " 22 

The Widow of Nain 23 

Faith Renewed 25 

The Angel of Death 26 

Could We But Know! 28 

The Heavenly Vision 29 

'• Comfort Ye My People " . . . . . 32 

The Waning Year 35 

For This One Day! 36 

A Mother's Thoughts of Her Dead 

Child 37 

Dressers of the Wilderness .... 39 

To My Father 40 

The Query — Why? 41 

Had We Only Known ! 43 

Supplication 44 

The Crown . . . . l. • • • • 44 
3 



Contents 



PAGE 

In the Vineyard ........ 46 

In Syria 49 

The Little Shepherd Boy 50 

The Little Son 51 

The Soul's Quest 54 

" A Little While ! " 57 

The Deaf 58 

Hampden-Sidney College, Virginia . . 59 

Les Huguenots 61 

The Ballad of *' Gipsy Smith '* . . .68 

Sir Galahad . 71 

The Vision of Eve 72 

The Sin Eater 77 

Honeysuckles 78 

" Indian Summer " 80 

The Red Cross Nurse 81 

A Woman of France 83 

The Whistler and His Dog .... 85 

Victors of the Marne 86 

SONNETS " IN ETERNAL MEMORY " 

" In Eternal Memory " 89 

The Old House 90 

A Summer Night 91 

The Little Wood ...... .- 92 

4 



Contents 



PAGE 

"Lord, Whither Goest Thou?" ... 93 

The Potter's Wheel 94 

" Beauty for Ashes " 94 

O Lord, Send Peace ! 95 

HiNc III^ Lachrim/^ 96 

Mirage 97 

Recompense 98 

Starshine 99 

BALLADS AND SONGS OF THE 
SOUTHLAND 

Semper Fidelis 103 

" Sunset After Appomattox " . . . .105 
The Spirit of the South to Her Dead 

Heroes 107 

The House Where Stonewall Jackson 

Died no 

The Last Review 112 

The Blockade Runner 117 

Bill Stubbs, of Norfolk 121 

The Home Land . . . ... .... 123 



THE FIELDS OF PEACE 



THE FIELDS OF PEACE 

Sometimes, it seems that life Is very drear 

For us, who mourn! 
[We cannot see the sunshine, sweet and clear ; 

We weep, forlorn. 

We cannot lift our dull and weary eyes 

From earth's deep gloom, 
To where the hills of heavenly glory rise, 

Beyond the tomb. 

As in a trance of sadness still we He 

And cannot hear. 
Like strains of angel music from the sky, 

Those voices dear, 

Of loved ones waiting in the mansions bright, 

In God's fair lands, 
iWaiting, and calling to us through the night. 

With beckoning hands ! 

iWhen through the fields of peace they rove. 

With saints at rest. 
Do they not guard us with eternal love, 

Those spirits blest? 

Oh, some time there will be an end of pains. 

Of grief and woe, 
When God shall break for us our earthly chains, 

And bid us go! 

7 



The Fields of Peace 



Though long and lonely be the upward way, 

It leads at last 
To where there dawns a happy, golden day, 

When life is past. 

Though cold and dark the shadows over all, 

When night is come, 
We'll hear from out the dusk the call — 

** My child, come home!" 



9 



The Fields of Peace 



THE MOTHER IN HEAVEN 

The Mother went down daily 
To the great white gates, 
Her wistful eyes turned eagerly adown the shining 
strand ; 
Within her heart a mighty love, 
A love that sweetly waits, 
iWith meek and lowly patience on her blessed Lord's 
command. 

The throngs of hovering spirits 
But newly come to rest 
Beneath the promised shadow of the Father's bound- 
less love, 
Went by her, singing, onward 
To their avocations blest. 
From the peaceful groves of Heaven never, never 
more to rove. 

Oh, the fair, green plains of Heaven, 
Where the crystal waters flow. 

Where the light that is not sunlight. 
Neither moon nor candle glow. 

Shines across the Holy City, 

Where the radiant mansions stand, 

Ready builded for God's people, 
Fashioned not by human hand ! 

Rank on rank, the happy spirits 
Pass along the golden street; 

Father, mother, friend, and lover, 

Joyously they meet, and greet 

9 



The Fields of Peace 



These are they that out of sorrows, 

Tribulations manifold, 
Having come with great rejoicings. 

Touch in praise their harps of gold. 

Not as through a glass, so darkly, 
Need they pierce the veil of space. 

But forever hold sweet converse, 
Hand to hand, and face to face! 

She had so lately come to Heaven, 
That gentle mother-soul, 
She scarce had glimpsed the wonders of those dwell- 
ings glorified; 
Above the song of angel choirs 
Still she seemed to hear the roll 
Of those dark and cruel waters, of Death's melan- 
choly tide. 

Two little, smiling angels stood 
Close by that Mother's side. 
Their faces fair as morning light, their eyes of ten- 
der blue; 
" Oh, Mother dear, why do you wait? 
Oh, come! " they softly cried; 
** Have we not waited long for thee, thy little chil- 
dren two? 

" For such a little while 

To earth we came ; 
Scarce did we learn to smile, 

And lisp .thy name ! 

lO 



The Fields of Peace 



" In th' circling arms of love 

We lay so warm, 
We had not time to prove 

Earth's dole and harm. 

" Soft eyes, and dark, bent head, 

Sweet lips that smiled 
Above our cradle-bed, 

'My child, my child!' 

" Then a little space for pain, 

For tears, for sighs, 
God called us home — in vain 

Your anguished cries ! 

" With the little angels dear 

In this fair land 
We have waited many a year, 

A happy band ; 

"But now our watch is o'er! 

With spirits blest 
On this celestial shore, 

Sweet mother, rest ! " 

The Mother: 

"My little, little children dear, 

Oh, forever blest am I 
That God hath brought me safely to my heavenly 
home, at last! 

It is not meet that I should pine ; 

In Heaven you hear no sigh. 
There is no room for longing for the joys of earth, 



now past! 



II 



The Fields of Peace 



" In Heaven there is no mourning, 

No place for bitter tears; 
Sweetly sounds the music of the angels' holy songs; 

Triumphantly the echoes ring, 

Adown the mournful years, 
And filling earth with harmony, to lighten human 
wrongs. 

" But, children dear, the earth I left 
Such a little while ago, 
See how fair it blossoms with sweetest flowers of 
May! 
Yet still my spirit seems to hear 
Sad sounds of grief and woe ! 
'Tis my lonely children, weeping — they are weep- 
ing night and day! 

The Flight of the Soul 

" The hours, so long, so slow I 

So rough the way 
The weary soul must go, 

Ere breaks the day! 

" The Vale and Shade of Death! 

A desert waste! 
Of air, no faintest breath — 

Oh, soul, make haste! 

" Beset by darkest fears, 

And sounds of moans; 
A mist of falling tears, 

And heart-wrung groans! 
12 



The Fields of Peace 



** Fain would I stay awhile, 

To break the gloom 
With tender word and smile, 

Across the tomb! 

** The sullen waters creep. 

So still — so cold ! 
The banks, a rocky steep — 

No hand to hold ! 

"How can I cross the Vale, 

How stem that tide, 
Breasting the bitter gale, 

With none to guide? " 

A Voice: 
" Yea, though thou walkest through the Valley and 
the Shadow of Death, thou shalt fear no 
evil, for / will be with thee, 
My rod and My stafE they shall 
Comfort thee ! " 

The Soul: 

*' What music do I hear! 

Light breaks ahead! 
Lord, I no longer fear, 

With Thee to tread! 

" Soon shall the anguish cease, 

The soul be free! 
I see the Gates of Peace — 

My Savior — Thee!" 
13 



The Fields of Peace 



Oh, happy soul, to win 

The bitter fight. 
With joy to enter in 

Heaven's golden light ; 

Safe from pain and woe 

To rest at last. 
Where tears never flow, 

Earth's trials past! 

There came a host of spirits blest, 
Beautiful, and bright and glad, 
(The Mother scarce could look on them, so radiant 
they did stand ! ) 
Their robes were white and shining, 
They were right fitly clad, 
And crowned with golden glorioles, with waving 
palms in hand. 

The voice of this great multitude 
Was like the sound of many waters; 
Singing before the Throne of God a new and happy 
song. 
Oh, wonderful it was to see them, 
Earth's rejoicing sons and daughters. 
Casting their crowns before Him, redeemed from 
sin and wrong! 

Chorus of Saints: 
" God shall wipe away all thy tears, 
God shall comfort thee for all thy fears, 
He shall make His face to shine upon thee, 
Thou shalt be blest! 
14 



The Fields of Peace 



** For we, who have triumphed over Death, 
Oh, we, who seemed of all hope bereft. 
He hath brought us out of all our woes, 
We sweetly rest ! 

" Oh, come and drink of the waters of Life ! 
Oh, come and rest after the dread strife ; 
For God, Who sitteth on His Throne, 
Hath prepared thy home! 

" All things old shall become as new ! 
Thou who wert faithful, kind and true. 

Abide in peace in the shelter of God's love! 
Oh, sister spirit, come ! " 

The Mother: 
" How can I take mine ease in Heaven, 
And hear the angels sing, 
How can I join these choristers, and worship God 
with praise. 
When down upon the green, green earth, 
They toil, still sorrowing, 
All lonely, with no mother-love to fill the empty 
days? 

" Still would I hold them close — 
Oh, close within my loving arms ! 
Is it too much to ask of God, Who loves His Only 
Son, 
That I may still watch over them, 
Amid earth's rude alarms. 
And see their sweet eyes gather hope, when mourn- 
ing days are done ? " 
15 



The Fields of Peace 



Came one from out the gleamy light 
Gilding that angel band, 
Of all that splendid, shining host, he was most fair 
and bright; 
" Oh, pure and changeless mother-love ! 
I, too, have crossed Death's strand, 
And heard the sound of weeping roll upward 
through the night! 
" Come now, thou sweetest mother, 
For the Lord hath need of thee; 
In the vast concourse of his saints none else may 
take thy place ; 
Come look upon thy home prepared, 
And all its wonders see, — 
Blest reward for all thy services, thy life so full of 
grace. 
" Behold the encircling cherubim 
That ceaselessly do sing. 
Adoring One Who sits enthroned. Lord of the quick 
and dead! 
The days and years of pious grief 
Will heavenly comfort bring; 
The Father of the fatherless will guard each bowed 
head. 
*' Think not that here in Heaven 
Earth's pain is e'er forgot! 
The patient Father surely counts each burning tear 
that falls; 
He hath balm for every anguish, 
Rest thee, beloved, fear not! 
The dear ones will be waiting, when at last the 
Master calls! " 

i6 



The Fields of Peace 



Song of Spirits: 
" Oh, hearken, all ye mourners who sit beside the 
tomb, 
So early in the morning 
Come to look upon your dead ! 
See, the places where ye laid them — behold, there 
is no room 
For the burden of your sorrow, 
And the fruitless tears ye shed ! 

" For the stone that shut the passage is forever 
rolled aside! 
The Angel of Glad Tidings 
Sits within the garden fair. 
The souls ye love are happy now, with Christ the 
Crucified ; 
They bid you speed your earthly task. 
And strive to meet them there ! " 

The Mother bent a last swift glance 
Across that shoreless sea, 
iWhich mortal eyes can never glimpse, nor human 
knowledge span 
Its tireless sweep, its changeless flow. 
Its endless mystery, — 
The Sea of Death, whose waves are fed by ceaseless 
tears of man. 

Then filled with holy ecstasy. 
Kneeling, she made her prayer: 
"Now lettest thou thy servant, Lord, forever do 
thy will! 

n 



The Fields of Peace 



Through all the years of mortal life, 
In days of want and care, 
Thou hast been strong to comfort me — be thou 
my helper still ! 

" Look down from out this golden light 
Veiling thy glorious face; 
Regard that little, humble spot, so small in earth's 
vast range! 
Encircle with thy mighty love 
That dear and lowly place! 
Send thou thy blessed angels the dark days of grief 
to change! 

" So many and so grievous 
Are the burdens they must bear 
Who toil along earth's rugged paths! Oh, give 
them daily strength ! 
Give them the courage that they need 
All human woes to dare! 
And after life's long exile, Lord, oh, bring them 
home at length ! " 

Was it the sound of music sweet 
Swelling in glorious strains? 
Or a great voice out of Heaven, saying : " God 
shall wipe away all tears, 
There shall be no more of crying. 
No more of grief and pain ; 
The souls of those who faithful were shall reign 
through endless years." 

1*8 ' * 



The Fields of Peace 



The little, smiling angels 
Had soft eyes of starry ray ; 
They lifted up their harps of gold, they sang with 
tuneful breath ; 
And through the gates of Heaven pealed, 
Along the Shining Way, 
Glad anthems of redeemed souls that had conquered 
Sin and Death ! 

How triumphant is the union 
Of souls alike so pure ! 
There are on earth no words to tell the rapture of 
that joy! 
Oh, the bliss, to dwell in Heaven, 
In a peace that shall endure 
Through eternities of happiness, that Time can not 
destroy ! 

Though still beneath the misty spheres 
The mourning children stray. 
They watch the sunset's glory, they dream of Heav- 
en's fair land, 
Where some time they shall meet again 
In the golden light of day. 
Those gentle spirits, waiting now beyond the Shin- 
ing Strand. 

And the glory and the mystery 
Of that life beyond the skies. 
In visions full of rapture fill the silence of earth's 
night; 

19 



The Fields of Peace 



Like the odors of sweet incense 
From the golden bowls that rise — 
The prayers and patience of the saints, before the 
Throne of Light. 

Sonff of the Children: 

*' Blessed spirits, leave us never! 
As by crystal streams ye wander, 
In the shining heavenly mazes, 
High and holy themes to ponder, 
Interspersed with grateful praises, 
Ye who loved us, love us ever ! 

** If in paths of sin we tread. 
Will ye, from God's Paradise, 

By the light of love divine. 
Looking down with tender eyes, 
Shed a blessing all benign. 
That no more we fear or dread ? 

" Here on earth we walk apart ! 
In the sunset, in the twilight. 

Let us glimpse thy loving faces; 
Come to us in dreams of midnight. 
Comfort us with warm embraces! 
Still abide within each heart ! " 



20 



The Fields of Peace 



THE HEART OF THE CHILD 

The heart of the child, it never grows old ! 
Though life may darken, and love grow cold 
As the hoar-frost on the garden mold, 

In autumn weather; 
Yet ever within it lingers fair, 
And nothing in life can aught impair 
The childish faith that is nourished there, 

For years together. 



Whatever of fortune or trial may come. 
In crowded city, or humble home ; 
Wherever our careless footsteps roam, 

From youth to age; 
Whatever of worldly and frivolous lore, 
From the book of life we may eagerly store, 
As we con its chapters o'er and o'er, 

Each blotted page; 

Yet, fresh and pure as the hidden rill. 
In the forest deep, 'neath the ferny hill, 
Where woodland creatures drink their fill 

Of its limpid tide ; 
So the love of the child is forever young, 
And sweet as the source from which it sprung. 
From the mother-heart and the mother-tongue, 

Its gentle guide. 

21 



The Fields of Peace 



Oh, mother mine, when my breath shall cease, 
And the pallid form lies low, in peace, 
Cold from the shock of its glad release 

From mortal pain; 
The soul of your child as it takes its flight, 
Shall pierce the murk of death's brooding night, 
And join you there in the golden light, 

A child again! 

" AND MARTHA SERVED " 

** Lord, may not I, too, share in that good part 
For which the mild-eyed Mary thou dost bless? 
Behold, the many cares upon my heart 
That hourly press! 

" I cannot leave undone my humble task; 
This little home, with all its scanty gear, 
The usance of my ready hands doth ask. 
In service dear. 

" A simple woman am I, Lord, and know 
No arts to charm, but only how to serve; 
My sister Mary hath soft eyes, aglow. 
That never swerve 

** From thy benign and lofty face ; but. Lord, 
I would that sometimes I might kneel awhile, 
Forgetting all my tasks, to hear thy word. 
To see thy smile! 

22 



The Fields of Peace 



" But here are hungry ones that I must feed, — 
So much to do, so little time to spare 
From the dull round of daily haunting need, 
So much of care! 

" I am so hurried all the livelong day, 
I have not time to sit and learn of thee ! 
Carest thou not that thus I toil alway 
So busily? 

" Yet, Lord, I pray thee, teach me how to find, 
With thy divine compassion from above. 
Surcease from cumbering services, that blind 
Mine eyes to Love ! " 



THE WIDOW OF NAIN 

The Widow of Nain went forth in grief, 
Her heart was spent with woe ; 

Before her was borne a shrouded form. 
On a litter, poor and low. 

Out and beyond the gate of Nain, 

To his last and long repose. 
To the carved tomb in the rocky wall, 

The son of his mother goes. 

Around her friends and neighbors wept. 
And mingled their cries with hers; 

'Tis sweet in the hour of bereavement, 
To share the mourner's tears ! 
25 



The Fields of Peace 



Oh, the sun shone bright in Galilee, 

As the Lord came over the way; 
And the many around him wept to see 

Such a blot on the gladsome day. 

" 'Tis the only son of his mother, Lord, 

And she a widow lone; 
Oh, who can comfort and solace bring, 

As she weeps for her son, who is gone ? '* 

The Lord beheld that mother's tears, 

With compassion and love divine; 
And they that bore the bier stood still, 

At the blessed Master's sign. 

" Weep not," said the Lord to the Widow of Nain, 
And sweet was the glance of his eyes ; 

And he came and touched the lowly bier, — 
'' Young man, I say, arise! " 

And there came a mighty fear on all, 
As the dead arose from his shroud ; 

" God hath visited his people here ! " 
Low murmured the wondering crowd. 

Oh, widows of Nain, the wide world over, 
Take comfort, and cease your cries! 

For the sons that are dead shall live again, 
With the Lord in Paradise! 



24 



The Fields of Peace 



FAITH RENEWED 

How the sun glints upon this scarlet leaf ! 

This world's a very pleasant place to stray ! 
Whilst yesterday the home of sodden grief, 

Faith's alchemy hath changed its mien to-day! 

Last eve I said: " There is no room for joy 
Within this crowded prison-house of life 1 " 

Dark, sordid cares did my sick soul employ 
To fill my heart with melancholy rife. 

But in the quiet of the peaceful night 
I cast aside my day-time woes and fears; 

The morning brings its sweet and rosy light, 
To shame mine eyes for all their senseless tears. 

The friend who yesterday had seemed so cold, 
To-day presents a smiling visage fair, 

And joins in merry jesting, as of old ; 
And straightway I my misery forswear. 

Oh, what a sunlit, musical old earth ! 

Would that men might forever dwell serene 
And cheerful, having time for wholesome mirth, 

Free from the fret of treason, spite and spleen! 

God sets his rainbow 'gainst life's blackest cloud, 
And bids us lift our eyes, and learn to trace 

Beyond the mists and vapors that enshroud 
Our vision, the bright glory of His face. 
25 



The Fields of Peace 



THE ANGEL OF DEATH 

So long the silent angel stood, 
[With dark, unsmiling eyes, 

And wings that swept the shadows 
Within their dusky fold; 
Stood ever on the threshold, 
As one who seeks his prize, 

And sees beneath his downward gaze 
A world grown cold. 

" Oh, come not, cruel angel! 
Here is no room for thee! 

Leave us in quiet hopefulness 
A little longer still ! 
Are there not others waiting 
And longing to be free? 

Oh, angel of dark omen, 
Is this God's will?" 

The angel stood and listened 
In sad and mournful guise ; 

The darkling of his awful face 
Was very strange to see 1 
In bitter woe and anguish 
Arose those broken cries — 

Those age-worn cries of sorrow, 
And agony! 

26 



The Fields of Peace 



" Twice have we seen thee lurking, 
Unbending, pale and grim, 

Hov'ring with wings of darkness 
Outside our chamber door ! 
We gave thee up one dear one, 
In the night hours sad and dim — 

Canst thou not pass us over, 
And come no more ? " 

Slow dragged the heavy night-tide, 
And still the angel bent, 

But on his face there grew a light, 
Like to the morning clear! 
It pierced the brooding shadows, 
The veil of flesh was rent — 

He bore away a gentle soul, 
A mother dear ! 



27 



The Fields of Peace 



COULD WE BUT KNOW! 

Do roses bloom above the shining portal 

Of thy celestial home? 
And wondrous birds, choiring songs immortal, 

On bright, fleet pinions roam? 

Do soft winds waft across the vernal hills 

Rich perfumes, sweet and rare? 
Hast thou forgot earth's poverty and ills. 

In blest surcease from care? 

What holier songs than those that here we know, 

Dost thou sing sweetly now? 
What smiles, more radiant than the sunshine's glow, 

Suffuse with joy thy brow? 

The dear hands that no idle moments knew. 

Swift in their daily task, 
What duties doth the Master give to you? 

What gracious service ask? 

Along the banks of that calm-flowing stream, 

Whose waves glide crystal-clear, 
Hast thou fulfilment of each earthly dream. 

With friends long gone, and dear? 



28 



The Fields of Peace 



THE HEAVENLY VISION 

Here in mine own hired house I dwell, 

An old man, bowed and worn 
With toil, and the stress of a life far spent, 

Of earthly honors shorn. 

This mailed soldier, who shares my chain, 

Knoweth the stripes I bear, 
And the hidden thorn in my shrinking flesh, 

That burdens oft my prayer. 

But at eventide, when the shadows fold 
O'er the templed hills of Rome, 

My dim eyes watch for a vision fair, 
That fills this humble home. 

And I marvel much, as the glory slips 

Adown the purple sky, 
That the Lord of Heaven and Earth did save 

A sinner such as I ! 

On the long highway that led to Damascus, 

How hot the white sand lay! 
And the sun in the blazing firmament 

Beat down on th' thistles gray. 

In the strength of a stern and haughty will 

My chariot train I drave: 
" I am Saul, of Tarsus, whom all men fear! 

No human power can save 
29 



The Fields of Peace 



" Man or woman, aged or young, 

Lowly, of high degree, 
Who worship the Christ of th' shameful cross, 

And humbly bow the knee ! 

" What though on their slain and risen Lord 

These wretches boldly call? 
In th' Book of the Law it is written plain, 

That Jehovah ruleth all!" 

And I verily thought in my perverse mind, 

I, Saul, the Pharisee, 
That the mission of death I was set upon 

Would bring me sanctity. 

So I pressed with haste on my furious course, 

From morn till noonday bright. 
When lo! like a flash from the brazen sky, 

There shone a splendid light ! 

Then I fell to the ground, my burning eyes 

Of eager sight bereft; 
The shell of my hardened heart was pierced. 

As though a sword it cleft. 

And there came a Voice, that spake my name 

In accents sad and low; 
'Twas the voice of the gentle Nazarene, 

To me, His vanquished foe ! 

Friends, have I not told what the Master said 

On that Damascus road ? 
" Saul, Saul! " said the Voice, " 'tis hard for thee 

To kick against the goad ! " 
30 



The Fields of Peace 



Trembling and mazed in my blindness there — 
" Lord, what wouldst have me do? " 

I, Saul of Tarsus, the Pharisee, 
The persecuting Jew ! 

And the Voice bade me rise and follow on 

To the city near at hand ; 
There for three days long, without food or drink 

Awaiting His command, 

I stripped my soul of its sin and pride, 

And bent my knees in prayer; 
And ever the light of the Vision shone 

Across the darkness there. 

Thenceforth, through dangers by land and sea, 

Obedient to that Sign, 
I have fought the good fight, have kept the faith, 

Its triumph shall be mine ! 

Though the tyrant's threat of a martyr's death 

My soul ofttimes desponds, 
Yet I would the wide world w^ere such as I, 

Except these bonds — these bonds! 



31 



The Fields of Peace 



" COMFORT YE MY PEOPLE " 

" Comfort ye, comfort ye my people, 

Saith your God." 
Yea, though thou makest us in pain to feel 

Thy chastening rod ! 

" Speak ye comfortably to Jerusalem, 

Cry unto her — " 
Lo, where she sitteth in haughty scorn. 

And hath no fear! 

" She hath received of the Lord's hand double 

For all her sin ! " 
Thou, Lord, alone hast might and power 

Hard hearts to win! 

" The voice of one crying in the wilderness, 

* Prepare ye the way! ' " 
Yea, Lord, we hearken to him, and are glad 

This glorious day ! 

" Make ye straight in the desert a highway 

For our God I" 
Turn Thou our footsteps into ways of joy; 

Weary, we plod! 

" Every valley shall be exalted, each mountain height 

And hill made low." 
Oh, make pleasant for us the rugged paths 

Wherein we go! 

32 



2^he Fields of Peace 



'' The glory of the Lord shall be revealed, 

All flesh shall see!" 
As the mouth of Jehovah hath spoken it, 

So shall it be ! 

" The voice said, ' Cry ! ' What shall I cry? 

All flesh is grass ! " 
Its goodliness is as the flow^er of the field, 

A withered mass ! 

" The grass withereth, the flov^er f adeth. 

But God's word stands ! " 
Yea, even shall its glory pierce the darkness 

Of heathen lands! 

" Oh, Jerusalem, that bringest good tidings. 

Lift up thy voice! " 
From the high places, singing as the cherubim, 

We shall rejoice! 

" Behold, the Lord God cometh, with a strong hand, 

His arm shall rule ! " 
As of old, in Eden in the Garden walking. 

In the evening cool! 

" He shall feed his flock like a shepherd. 

Them gently lead! " 
As a flock that scattereth with none to guide. 

Thy help we need ! 
" Who hath measured the waters in the hollow 

Of his hand?" 
Thou, who hast weighed the mountains, and meted 

Earth with a span! 



The Fields of Peace 



" Who hath directed the Spirit of Jehovah, 

Or hath taught him? " 
In paths of justice hath he showed us the way, 

Since ages dim. 

" Behold, he taketh up as a very little thing 

Isles of the sea! " 
Nations of the earth to him are as the small dust, 

And vanity ! 

" To whom shall ye liken God, or what likeness 

To him compare? " 
Not unto graven images, wrought with cunning art, 

With chasing rare! 

" Hath it not been told you from the beginning, 

Hast thou not known? " 
Yea, Thou hast been our help in all generations, 

And years long gone ! 

" It is he that sitteth upon the circle of the earth. 

The heavens out-spread ! " 
Before him, the nations are as grasshoppers, 

And as the dead ! 

** Yea, they shall not be planted, yea, they 

Shall not be sown ! " 
We are as stubble withered in the summer heat. 

By whirlwinds blown. 

" To whom shall ye liken me, or shall I be equal ? 

Saith the Holy One." 
Thou callest us by name, thou art strong in power. 

There f aileth none ! 

34 



The Fields of Peace 



" Even the young shall faint and be weary, 

And youth shall fall!" 
Shall we not mount up with wings, as eagles? 

On God we call ! 



THE WANING YEAR 

Bright o'er each silent tomb, 
The autumn leaves are flying; 

Soft through the branches bare, 
The autumn winds are sighing; 

Safe housed from earthly storms 
The sacred dead are lying, 
So peacefully ! 

Swiftly the seasons roll, 

Once gay with homely cheer ; 

Gone are days of joy. 
Blest by a presence dear ; 

Fond memories closely throng. 
Darkly sets the waning year — 
So drearily! 

God keep us in His love! 

Guide ever kind and meek. 
Over the lonely road, 

Safeguard our footsteps weak ! 
Help us from mortal woes, 
Life's highest good to seek, 
So hopefully ! 
35 



The Fields of Peace 



FOR THIS ONE DAY! 

Give us the yearnings of a little child, 

This one day in the year, 
That we may rest from earth's harsh tumults wild, 

And have no fear ! 

Let us see visions of the Babe that slept 

In th' lowly manger dim, 
Where Joseph and the gentle Mary kept 

Watch over him! 

Let us hear angels singing in the night. 

And see that shining star 
Guiding the Wise-men by its amber light. 

From lands afar! 

If we had gold and frankincense and myrrh. 

Gifts sweet and rare to bring, 
Would we not lay them, our cold hearts astir, 

Before our King? 

If we were shepherds on some lonely plain. 

Would not our hearts rejoice 
To see the glory of the heavenly train. 

To hear God's voice ? 

What was that song the blessed angels sang, 

So long, so long ago ? 
" Peace and good will ! " the joyful anthem rang, 

On earth below. 

36 



The Fields of Peace 



Oh, holy angels, let us hear again. 

Above sad sounds of strife, 
Above the anguish of poor dying men.. 

That song of life ! 

A MOTHER'S THOUGHTS OF HER 
DEAD CHILD 

When the slow tears of sorrovs^ cease to fall, 
And fitful gleams of sunlight pierce the gloom ; 
When the pale snowdrop puts forth timid bloom, 

And from afar I hear the robin's call ; 

When earth again seems fair, with glint of joy 
After sad days when Grief made haste to bring, 
Cold in her earthen cup of chastening, 

Those bitter draughts that erst sweet hopes destroy; 

Oh, think not that thy memory grows less dear, 
Because sometimes I join in sudden mirth. 
And yield to laughter, with the jocund earth, 

Finding brief solace in gay words of cheer ! 

For underneath a guise of careless ease, 

Sweet thoughts of thee run, like a silver thread 
Of starlight through the dusk of evening shed, 

And with their holy calm my grief appease. 

Ofttimes when the dear children at my knee 
Put up their tiny hands in soft caress, 
I seem to feel thy baby fingers press ; 

In their bright eyes thy lovely smile I see. 
37 



The Fields of Peace 



And all thy life of gentle, girlish grace 
Casts its divine reflection down the years 
Wherein ye walked, untroubled by vain fears, 

The light of lofty purpose on thy face. 

For thy sake do I love all tender youth, 

All happy things that laugh and lift glad eyes, 
Singing with rapture for the joy that lies 

In hearts all innocent of sin and ruth. 

Now shall I not give humble thanks and praise 
That God, Who knoweth that His way is best, 
So gently called thee to thy heavenly rest, 

That the world's sorrow darkened not thy days? 

Time, that bringeth healing on his wings. 
Hath also in his hands the gift of peace; 
Oh, gift divine, that bids our mourning cease, 

And to the bruised heart sweet comfort brings ! 

Now I no longer tremble when thy name 
In sisters' converse, in low accents slips 
Soft through the guarded portals of their lips, 

Lest, hearing, I should call out in wild blame! 

For thy dear memory ever doth abide 
In the close circle of this pleasant home, 
An angel guest, whose furled wings never 
roam, — 
My little girl, my little girl who died ! 
38 



The Fields of Peace 



DRESSERS OF THE WILDERNESS 

"... That, however fallen from the purity or far from 
the peace of Eden . . . they ivill . . . dress and keep the 
Hjuilderness, though they no more can dress and keep the 
garden." (Ruskin.) 

" * Dressers of the wilderness ' are we, 

Women who toil from early morn till night, 
While others keep the gardens fair and sweet, 
Whose paths are soft as yielding velvet to their feet, 

And golden sunshine makes their whole world 
bright, 
While we — we keep the dusty wilderness ! " 
Out in the spaces of the wilderness, 

Ye pale ones, laden with your homely care. 
Come there not strains of music to your ears. 
Come there not visions rapturous, to calm your 
fears. 

Visions that glow and burn with beauty rare, 
Making a glory in your wilderness? 
" Yea, visions such as holy angels ever see, 

Come shining down the vista of sad years. 
Till all the lonely wastes, the by-ways of despair, 
Are paths of splendor, leading to that fair 

Sweet realm of bliss, beyond this haunt of tears, 
Beyond the confines of this wilderness ! " 
Brave keepers of the barren wilderness. 

To you full soon shall come the blessed even-tide, 
When as the lengthening shadows purple fall. 
The Master of the Garden Fair shall stand, and 
call: 

" Behold, the gates are open — open wide ! 
Come in and rest, tired daughters of the wilder- 



ness 



1 " 



39 



The Fields of Peace 



TO MY FATHER 

December ii, 1910 

Far in the West, where the dark pines wave, 
And the snow-crowned mountains stand, 

You are resting now in a quiet grave, 
In a sad and lonely land. 

No child e'er comes to cast sweet flowers, 

Or filial tears to shed ; 
And bleak are the winter's empty hours, 

In that city of the dead. 

But never the year creeps dully by, 
Till December's days grow drear. 

But my restless heart sends forth a cry, 
And mourns for my father dear ! 

Oh, sweet was the light of your beautiful face, 
As you taught me the lessons of truth ; 

And straight was the path in the ways of grace, 
Where you guided the steps of youth! 

Calmly you stood mid the tumult and noise, 

The stress and the battle of life, 
Pointing the way to those heavenly joys 

That beckon beyond the strife ! 

Riches and honors passed you by 
As you plodded your narrow way ; 

And now with the saints that reign on high 
In Heaven's eternal day, 
40 



The Fields of Peace 



Your soul is safe from all worldly fears, 
The heartbreak of earth's cold scorning; 

The dust shall await the end of the years — 
Glad resurrection's morning! 



THE QUERY — WHY? 

Ofttimes one, musing through the city streets, 
Doth dimly glimpse in faces that one meets, 
The thin, worn look of hunger or despair, 
The hopeless apathy, the burdened air, 
That can but mean the endless query, *' Why, 
O Lord of sorrowing ages, 
Why? 

" Why hast thou brought us to this maze of pain. 
This cold and scornful world, where heartless Gain 

In panoply of splendor mocks our woes ; 

And, lapped in luxury, sweet Beauty goes 
Along glad ways of smiling plenty, and. 

Seeing our misery, scarce wonders — 
*Why?"' 

It seems but yesterday that in the early morn 
We rose to chant the day when Christ was born. 
He came to cleanse the world from sin. 
From guilt and shame men's wilful hearts to win ; 
He died that all might have eternal life. 
Yet still they question, dully, 
"Why?" 

41 



The Fields of Peace 



Oh, those poor, pale faces, how they gloom 
And darken, like dim spectres from the tomb ! 

Shall not those questioning lips some time be 

stilled ? 
Shall not those empty hands at length be filled? 
.When the great day of wrath shall dawn, 
How shall we answer that eternal 
"Why?" 

If in His stead we have not wrought our part, 
With ceaseless zeal to ease each troubled heart, 
The tears our negligence has caused to flow. 
Shall swell the waters of that stream of woe. 
That in a flood high mounting up to God, — 
Think not 'twill drown His awful query, 
"Why?" 



42 



The Fields of Peace 



HAD WE ONLY KNOWN! 

Had we only known of the secret grief 
That smouldered and burned, without relief, 
In the soul of the man, as he scoffed and jeered, 
We might have spoken a loving word — 
But we did not know ! 

Had we given a thought to the mortal pain 
That rent his heart and seared his brain. 
Had we guessed the anguish, the sordid care, 
We might have saved him from despair! 
But we did not think ! 

Had we only heard, 'neath the idle jest, 
The cry of a soul in its sad unrest, 
We might have healed the wounded pride 
Of an erring brother " for whom Christ died ! " 
But we did not hear! 

So we let him go to his sudden doom — 
No love to lighten the gathering gloom — 
No prayer to speed his parting breath — 
No hand to close his eyes in death — 
We let him go ! 

But this we believe : In that lonely hour, 
God, manifest in love and power. 
Cleansed that soul of its shame and sin. 
And Heaven's gate opened to let him in ! 
This we believe ! 

43 



The Fields of Peace 



SUPPLICATION 

Grant me, O God, the grace to be 

Brave and unf earing on the lonely way, 
That upward path that leads to day 

Eternal, and to Thee, my Lord, to Thee! 

Give me the courage just to face 
From day to day the world of toil, 
The tedious round, wherein we moil, 

With deeds of tenderness to grace. 

What greater gift can mortal ask. 

Than just to comfort those who weep, 
To strengthen feeble steps that creep, 

Stumbling beneath the day-long task? 

If but one word or look of mine 

Can bring some troubled soul the light, 
The hope to gild life's darkest night. 

Reflecting Thee, oh, may it shine ! 

THE CROWN 

In splendor sets the sun, full-orbed and red ; 
The clouds are tinged with many a lovely hue, — 
Pale shades of violet, and gold and blue. 
Soft rose, and mauve, and tender green, as trees 
When first they put forth sprays the spring to greet 

Like to the very gates of Heaven they gleam, 
Those clouds that float and screen the dying day; 
44 



The Fields of Peace 



And far below, the peaceful city lay, 
In Sabbath stillness, free from noise and fret, 
Fair with the sweet reflection of those glowing 
clouds. 

A circle like a glorious golden crown, 
I see above the hilltops, o'er the height, 
E'en as I gaze upon that shining sight; 
Red-gold, and pointed like a royal diadem. 
Fit for the forehead of the Heavenly King. 

Radiant it hangs, and glows w^ith crimson fire. 
What angel bands this mystic message bringing, 
What unseen choir its holy vespers singing, 
Stand throned upon the evening's dying splendors, 
That I may have this glimpse of Heaven's glory? 

Is it to typify the crown for which 
My soul must ever strive, till all of life is past? 
A crown like to the golden circlets that they cast 
Down at the feet of God, those dear and blessed 

saints. 
For whom not yet our tears have ceased to flow, 
Because they come not back, to cheer us on our way? 

Oh, golden gates of Heaven, far and fair. 

In all the glory of thy beauty, open, open wide! 

Stoop ever from that splendor, dear Christ, Who 

died 
To point the way to me — even me — that crown 

to win, 
That shining marvel that I saw aloft, 
And took it for the emblem of my after-life, 
All golden with the light of dying day ! 
45 



The Fields of Peace 



IN THE VINEYARD 

Daily into the vineyard I must go, 

There working at the task my lord hath set ; 
'T is not for me the reason now to know 

Why all day long I toil, with sad eyes wet, 
Heavy with tears, because I labor so ! 

Around me throng the laborers, newly hired. 
Eager to taste the rosy vintage sweet ; 

Gaily they pluck the fruit, with hands untired, 
And when the day is done, on sandaled feet 

Homeward they hasten, by new hopes inspired. 

" Oh, Master, we who toiled from early morn, 
Have we not rights o'er those who worked one 
hour? 

The heat and burden of the day we've borne, 
Nor rested once in shady garden bower. 

Nor in the fields amid the golden corn ! 

" See all the vintage in a purple stream, 

We've trodden in the wine-press ! On its tide 

Full many a precious hope, full many a dream 
Upon its crimson flood hath floated wide. 

And sunk from sight beneath the sun's last beam! 

" And shall we not be paid in double store. 
Who thus all day have plodded at our task? 

Wrought at the w^ine-press with hands red and sore? 
Is it too much, this guerdon that we ask. 

To give us but a paltry penny more ? " 

46 



The Fields of Peace 



" Peace, friend, receive thy promised wage, one 
pence : 

O'er that which is mine own shall I not still 
Have power, to give or to withhold? Go hence! 

Behold the many empty hands to fill! 
Shall I not use them, lest they work offense? 

" For idle in the crowded market-place 

These laborers stood, who work but one short 
hour ; 

I saw and marked each hungry, pallid face ; 
With hopeless agony they seemed to lower, 

They were my brothers, of my father's race ! 

" * Why stand ye idle, and life's task thus shirk? ' 
To this one, and to that, I made appeal ; 

* Oh, master, no man giveth us to work ! 

To beg we are ashamed — we dare not steal — 
So here within the market-place we lurk ! ' 

" * Go ye into my vineyard, labor there 

One hour, or two, — it matters not ! ' I said ; 

* A penny, or a half-pence, — what is fair, 

Shall be thy wage, when the fierce heat is sped 
And breezes from the hilltops cool the air.' 

" Friend, who hath faithful been to me, and true, 
Repine not thus because I seek to bring 

Hope to the hopeless, even as once to you. 
What time I found you lone and sorrowing, 

And sought to give you balm instead of rue ! " 
47 



The Fields of Peace 



Shame-faced, I knelt before my gracious lord, 
And took the penny that his hand bestowed ; 

I could not utter one low, halting word, 
But rose and went down to my dear abode; 

With deep humility my soul was stirred. 

Oft in my heart the mystery I turn, 

Of human destiny, its sorry fate ; 
How some the tasks of life so idly spurn, 

Whilst others stand outside the vineyard gates, 
And with despair their lives consume and burn! 

In the sweet vineyard, or the market-place, 
The wisdom of the Master knoweth best; 

He hath regard unto each piteous case ; 

Whilst some must work, to some he giveth rest ; 

No troubled soul to him is poor or base ! 



48 



The Fields of Peace 



IN SYRIA 

I dream of the blue of S5^rian skies, 

Of white ships at the shore ; 
Of sun-browned faces and bright dark eyes, 

And a black tent's open door. 

I hear the pipe of the shepherd bold, 

As he calls his sheep by name, 
And leads them down to the distant fold. 

Through the sunset's scarlet flame. 

And faint sweet laughter thrills the air, 

Up from the cool well's brink ; 
Is it Rebekah, slim and fair, 

Who draws for the flocks to drink? 

Now over the desert's tawny rim 

The stately camels tread ; 
Weird shadows flit thro' the twilight dim; 

The evening star glows red. 

Ah, what care I for the mist and the snow. 

In this land of wintry wind, 
When on drifting pinions my glad dreams go, 

Happy and unconfined, 

To dwell mid the palms and cedars gray 

Of Lebanon's storied height, 
Where a thousand years are but as a day, 

Or a watch in a starry night ! 
49 



The Fields of Peace 



THE LITTLE SHEPHERD BOY 

Said the little shepherd boy, 
Mid the dark Judean hills: 

" Father, what sound of joy 
The desert spaces fills ? " 

" Hush, my child, and sleep ! 

'Tis but the bells of the sheep." 

" Father, I see white wings 
As of angels in swift flight, 

And a silvery radiance flings 
Its glory across the night! ** 

" It is the trail of a star 

Falling from worlds afar." 

" Oh, the shadowy shapes that flit 

Adown the desert's rim — 
On giant beasts they sit. 

All robed in garments dim ! " 
" Child, cease thine idle talk! 
'Tis the lean wolves that stalk." 

" But, father, I hear a cry 

As of a babe that weeps, 
Like to our little Amzi, 

When my weary mother sleeps ! " 
" The wind of the desert, child. 
It moans through the brambles wild." 

" Oh, father! Do lilies bloom 
At midnight's dismal hour? 

Whence comes that sweet perfume. 
Like the fragrance of a flower? " 
50 



The Fields of Peace 



" 'Tis the cedar on the hill. 
My little son, lie still! " 

The little shepherd lad 

Under his blanket crept ; 
Strange were the dreams he had 

Of a lovely Babe that slept 
Encircled by a ring 
Of angels, worshiping! 

THE LITTLE SON 

I 

My little son, on his mother's breast, 
Of babes new-born the fairest one, 
So late by angel-hands caressed, 
My little son I 

His tender feet so soon to run 

Along rough ways where mine have pressed, 

Oft weary 'neath the guerdons won ; 

Soft-sheltered in Love's perfumed nest, 
His little life but now begun, 
I take on me his fate, half-guessed, 
My little son ! 

II 

So fair thou art, as an opening flower 
Reveals in the dawning its rosy heart. 
Pure and fresh in its garden bower, 
So fair thou art ! 
51 



The Fields of Peace 



And sweet as the incense set apart 
For use in some solemn and holy hour, 
A flame on a sacred shrine to start. 

More precious than gold or earthly dower, 
Or wealth of the world in its gilded mart, 
Rank, or bright fame, or mighty power, 
So fair thou art! 

Ill 

I make this prayer to the Lord of Light, 
For my little son, as he slumbers there, 
That he may be strong to walk aright, 
I make this prayer ! 

With a soul as pure as his form is fair, 
A heart with all knightly graces dight, 
And a courage high, without dole or care. 

So may he be clothed upon with might, 
With an armor of virtue beyond compare. 
To turn away arrows of scorn and spite, 
I make this prayer 1 

IV 

So short the time God gave us thee ! 
Sweet bells had scarcely rung their chime 
To greet thee, ere thy soul went free. 
So short the time ! 
52 



The Fields of Peace 



Midst flowers that grace our sunny clime, 
We weep, thy tiny form to see 
As still and cold as winter's rime. 

But in the heavenly fields may be 
Space for thy growth to angel prime, 
Though still we whisper mournfully: 
"So short the time!" 



It is God's will ! What need for tears. 
Seeing thee lie so sweet and still, 
At ease through all the shadowy years ? 
It is God's will! 

What dreams the eternal silence fill, 
Free from all taint of mortal fears. 
Such as our bruised memories thrill! 

Undying love fore'er endears 
Thy name. Nor can dull Grief's mute chill 
Darken the heaven-born hope that cheers; 
It is God's will! 



53 



The Fields of Peace 



THE SOUL'S QUEST 

Life, how can you ask of me song or praise, 
Or a glad refrain along flowery ways ? 

For you have been to me a task-mistress grim, 
You have made harsh for me all my days ! 

In the dawn of youth, when the world was dim, 
My heart was a fountain filled to the brim 
With the vintage rare of a purpose true; 
And I drank it deep from the shining rim. 

The earth was gay and the skies were blue ; 
My glad young soul few sorrows knew ; 

You smiled on me, Life, with a tender smile ! 
Nothing dreamed I of the wormwood and rue 

I should drink and pluck, bewailing the while 
The dreary road that for many a mile 

Led far away from the fountain of youth ,* 
Ah, happy was I, without fear or guile! 

But all too soon came the bitter truth. 

To pierce my soul with its pain and its ruth ! 

With your light laughter and scornful glee 
You offered no bribe to me then, forsooth ! 

God gave me clear eyes that were keen to see 
The glory and beauty of things fair and free ; 

But you turned on me. Life, a mocking face — 
** Oh, splendid my guerdon, but not for thee ! " 
54 



The Fields of Peace 



Then I set my soul the high task to trace 
A worthy course in this mortal race; 

Despite the lures of your artful pride, 
I would walk upright, with conquering grace! 

Swift were my thoughts, as white ships that ride 
O'er the sparkling waves of the ocean's tide; 

I would bring to the sad and sorrowful world 
Some gift to brighten, some hope to guide ! 

But in passionate storms my soul was whirled, 
Beaten and bruised and downward hurled 

From the heights where in peace it fain would 
rest. 
Like a weary seabird, with wings close furled. 

But ever my soul renewed its far quest, 
And forth to its destiny eagerly pressed ; 

I turned me. Life, from the light of your eyes, 
Whose false bright glances my soul caressed ! 

Then I bade my soul seek a sweeter prize 

Than the baubles you offered in treacherous guise, 

When first my longing senses stirred 
At the best of your soft and luring cries. 

Oh, sweet and low as the soilg of the bird 
In the first faint blush of springtime heard, 

Calling and cooing to its hidden mate 
In its nest in the swaying, shadowy verd! 
55 



The Fields of Peace 



I cleansed my soul of all vengeful hate, 
I made it fair, in right royal state, 

Pure from all taint of pride and scorn, 
And strong to endure the thrusts of fate. 

Through peaceful channels my soul is borne, 
For we sailed away in the rose of morn, 

To seek new life 'neath a kindlier sky, 
No longer the cheat of a fate forlorn. 

Fair are the lands where my soul and I 
Put in to rest as the night draws nigh; 

And swift is our boat in its joyous flight; 
Straight to its goal, as the gray gulls fly, 

It wings its way o'er the foam-caps white, 
Oh, happy way, to the Isles of Light, 

The Blessed Islands where loved ones dwell. 
Beyond the stars, where there is no night! 



S6 



The Fields of Peace 



"A LITTLE WHILE!" 

" A little while ! " Beloved, do not fear 
Because thy broken life seemeth so drear, 

Though thy bright hopes, like wounded birds, 

have flown, 
Thy love's sweet blossoms in the dust lie prone, 
And death's cold hand hath plucked thy heart's 
Most Dear; 

Yet through the silence comes not to thine ear 
(As though thy dear love stoopeth ever near) 
A voice that stilleth thy despairing moan: 
"A little while!" 

God sendeth sorrow, and He giveth cheer; 

His love enfoldeth e'en the mournful bier; 

'Twas His strong angels rolled away the stone 
In that sad Garden where was laid His Own — 

Beloved, list ye to the promise clear: 
'* A little while!" 



57 



The Fields of Peace 



THE DEAF 

To those for whom the gates of sound 
Have softly shut, that now they dwell 
Aloof, as in some lonely cell 

Where never more glad sounds resound ; 

Where never more youth's tuneful mirth 
Makes music through the golden days, 
And never more in chants of praise, 

Their voices greet the year's new birth ; 

Give pity, as they stand apart 

In wistful musings, whilst swift life 

Stirs round them, quick with pain and strife, 

Or bright with hopes that warm the heart ! 

Yet mid earth's turmoil and its frets, 
Patient they bide, and, hearing not 
Harsh tongues with human passions hot, 

Their quiet knows no vain regrets. 

What hallowed memories throng and press 
Those peaceful halls of silence through. 
With noiseless tread, and eyes that woo, 

And gentle hands that soothe and bless ! 



58 



The Fields of Peace 



HAMPDEN-SIDNEY COLLEGE 
VIRGINIA 

Shades of the dim and hallowed Past, I thee invoke ! 

Bring to my vision scenes of long ago, 

When mid these groves of beauty moved and spoke 

Loved ones, long sleeping 'neath the grasses low 
In graves far distant! May their spirits shed 
A blessing on my bowed and reverent head ! 

Across yon campus green I seem to see 
Gay troops of slender youths, with shout and song 
Meeting and greeting ; in their boyish glee 
With jest and frolic seeking to prolong^ 

The days that pass too swiftly in their flight, 
Too soon engulfed in shadow-haunted night ! 

There dreamed our fathers. In those storied halls, 
Of faith and honor, and of high renown ; 
They heard afar Life's silver clarion-call. 
Their young eyes visioned bright the victor's crown; 
They saw, in splendor like a Holy Grail, 
The future miraged on that starry trail. 

The ancient oaks that crown the flower-decked hill, 
How oft the murmur of their rustling leaves 
Chanted th' eternal song of youth ! And still. 
Magic its warp and woof of romance weaves. 
Along th' embowered paths, in shaded groves, 
Where sweethearts met, and bright eyes told of 
love ! 

59 



The Fields of Peace 



Blest are the memories of an elder day, 
So eloquent of youth and manhood's grace ! 
Treading alone the world's rough, toilsome way, 
The grateful offspring of a godly race, 
I bring oblations, and renew with tears 
The vows of constancy, the hopes of years! 
(1843-1913.) 



60 



The Fields of Peace 



LES HUGUENOTS 

Who is this, riding so fast, so far ? 

Bartolomee of th' Mount ! 
He has fixed his course by a silver star ; 
Though he bears the sword of a man of war. 
Though he wears the dress of a King's Hussar, 

His heart-beats one might count ! 

The Huguenot, Bartolomee, 

A soldier of fair name. 
Has a sword so keen to smite its way- 
Through the ranks of foes, that in a fray 
Its swift stroke oft has won the day, 

With honor and high fame. 

These are days of peril for all good men 

Whose faith offends the King ; 
Though he loves this gallant soldier, when 
He deems him heretic, ah, then. 
The royal oath, by tongue or pen. 

Like sounding brass doth ring ! 

Long lowered the clouds that now have burst, 

A storm of cruel strife. 
That sweeps men forth, as things accursed. 
Their homes abandoned, friends dispersed, 
France in an ocean of grief immersed; 

A price on human life ! 

6i 



The Fields of Peace 



Louis the King! His name is dear 

To loyal hearts in France ; 
Though he rules the land by the might of fear, 
Though his laws are stringent and severe, 
Yet his subjects like a god revere 

His every word and glance. 

But the wisest of kings is still a man! 

When woman seeks to rule, 
He leaves his throne for the soft divan, 
He breaks his oath at the flirt of a fan, 
(So has it been since this world began!) 

A king, — and yet, a fool ! 

This King (you may read the story through 

In many an ancient tome) 
Has broken his word to his subjects true; 
And many a year and day shall he rue 
The men and women who then withdrew 
From country, and from home ! 

" In the bosom of the Holy See 

Alone is peace and rest! 
Abjure your sin of heresy, 
And you and yours are forever free 
To spend your lives right merrily, 

With wealth and honor blest ! " 

The Huguenot has a heart of might; 

He seeks his mountain home ; 
In the darkest hour of a winter night, 
With his face stern-set in the candle-light, 
62 



The Fields of Peace 



He looks his last on his loved birth-right, — 
An exile, far to roam ! 

Out through the gate of the old chateau 

His steed flies swift and sure; 
Behind him he hears the feet of his foe; 
The sound on his ear strikes a deadly blow ; 
It rings on the stones with a dread echo — 

"Abjure I Abjure! Abjure!" 

Now with him there rides a slim young page, 

All drest in doublet brown ; 
A wisp of the russet foliage, 
Fast flying before the tempest's rage, 
Forced rudely from its deep boskage. 

Trembling and fluttering down 

Is not more frail a thing to face 

The wrath of angry wind, 
Than is this slender page, whose grace 
Doublet and hose cannot efface; 
But the keenest eye can discern no trace 

Or sign of coward mind. 

How swift are the good steeds in their flight! 

The riders, how serene ! 
They comfort their hearts in the solemn night 
With words of cheer, and laughter light ; 
For the brown eyes of the page shine bright — 

He shows no spirit mean! 

They have left far behind the troopers grim ; 
They ride for life and love ! 

63 



The Fields of Peace 



Almost they have gained the forest's rim, 
(The little page, he is chanting a hymn!) 
When a shot rings out from the shadows dim — 
Now, shield them, God above! 

The heart of the man in his bosom quakes ; 

He sees the slender lad 
Shrink and tremble. The rein he takes 
And urges the steeds, till the silence breaks 
To turmoil, and each hoofbeat makes 

A sound like music mad. 

As the sweet red sunrise tints the east, 

A moment they must rest, 
For faint and weary are man and beast ; 
But not for long has the wild race ceased! 
Now the Huguenot, his fears increased. 

Spies on his page's vest 

A mark where the ball has pierced the pile 

And traced a blackened trail ; 
" Behold ! " said the page, with a wistful smile 
(Dark eyes uplifted, free from guile), 
" Our God hath spared my life awhile ! " 

The Huguenot turns pale 

As the page draws out from his doublet-breast 

A book, with leaves all torn ; 
To his panting bosom the lad he pressed. 
And tears stream forth, too long repressed ; 
Then down they kneel, and thanks addressed 

To God, that winter morn. 



The Fields of Peace 



" Be of good cheer, dear heart ! For God 

Will surely lend us aid ! " 
Then faster and faster the horses trod ; 
They are leaving behind the forest sod — 
Well for them that their steeds are shod 

For highway, as for glade ! 

Ride ! Ride ! Hear the flint and stone 

Ring 'neath the flying feet! 
No backward glances, nor fretful moan, 
For fortune lost, and for exile lone 
In foreign land, tho' the heart be prone 

To ache, its doom to meet ! 

At length they come to a frontier town, 

Which opens its friendly gate ; 
" Good seigneur, your dainty page in brown 
Hath a fragile look ! He is no clown ! 
(The Huguenot listens with a frown) 

You chose a goodly mate ! " 

Thus spoke the men at the city wall, 

Laughing, with eyes alert. 
The page felt his timid glances fall. 
And turned his face from the sight of all 
That merry throng. But his master's call 

'Suages the heart's vague hurt. 

" Let the lad abide in peace! Your jest 

Befits not gentlemen; 
I ride at our royal King's behest ; 
I stay not for food nor for needed rest, 

65 



The Fields of Peace 



Nor linger here to be your guest, 
Nor pass this way again ! " 

" Parbleu ! Can you be of that cursed band 

Of traitorous Huguenots, 
Whose stiff-necked pride has filled this land 
With strife and bloodshed ? Our King's command 
Is strict, with sword and fiery brand 

To deal them deadly blows ! " 

From his pouch the brave Bartolomee 

Draws out a precious scroll. 
" This royal order you must obey, 
Louis the King takes no man's nay! 
My mission is not a foolish play, 

I pledge you, on my soul! " 

*Tis a goodly parchment, all bedight, 

Stamped with the royal seal; 
It serves him well in this awkward plight. 
For the townsmen, beholding its gilding bright, 
Stand aloof with a sudden fright 

That mitigates their zeal. 

" Your guardsman's dress proclaims your rank; 

Our King's will is our own! " 
A touch of the spur on each horse's flank, 
A scramble along the river's bank, 
(Forsooth, this is no schoolboy prank!) 

And the Huguenots have flown ! 

Across the border where safety lies. 
They seek their happy goal ; 
66 



The Fields of Peace 



As in a vision, with wistful eyes 
See they the star of their destiny rise, 
To glow and shine in southern skies, 
Where Virginia's rivers roll? 

The Huguenot cries to his page so brave: 

" Suzanne, my sweetest wife ! 
With courage sublime your word you gave 
The faith of mine ancient name to save 
Tho' your body should fill a martyr's grave — 

Thou bright star of my life ! " 

From the panting steed she springs to his arms. 

Forgotten her page's dress. 
Forgotten the terrors of war's alarms, 
With all its dread attendant harms ; 
Once more her frozen heart she warms, 

And feels love's dear caress. 

Though exiles now from a country dear, 

Together they kneel low, 
And strengthen their hearts from anxious fear, 
To bear their lot with humble cheer. 
For the promise of hope shines bright and clear, 

That gladness they shall know ! 

Long was the life of that Huguenot pair. 

In a land beyond the sea ; 
They founded a home in a country fair ; 
They taught their children to do and to dare. 
With strength and courage and honor rare. 

For faith and liberty! 
67 



The Fields of Peace 



THE BALLAD OF " GIPSY SMITH " 

He was only a little gipsy lad, 
Slender and dark, and strangely clad. 

His kerchief, tied with careless grace, 
Matched the red in his smooth young face; 

Wild was the gleam of his faun-like eyes, 
As he stood abashed, in mute surprise, 

Where the music swelled in solemn strain, 
And the peace of God filled the humble fane. 

There bowed in worship a silent throng; 
Sweet voices rose in a lilting song. 

That told a story of wondrous love, 
Of Jesus, who dwelt in realms above. 

But nobody welcomed the gipsy boy — 
Nobody told him that tale of joy! 

Somewhere, from out the vast unknown, 
Like a leaf on the wind that is idly blown, 

A thought of God had drifted in 

To a gipsy camp, midst its tawdry sin. 

GOD! Who was God? Where did he dwell? 
The stars in their courses could not tell; 

The breeze that swept the heathery plain, 
The yellow sunlight, the silvery rain, 
68 



The Fields of Peace 



The birds that sang to the dawning day, 
The flowers that blossomed along the way; 

None of these beautiful things beguiled 
The seeking soul of the gipsy child. 

Not even the mother-love came back 

From its hurried flight o'er a boundless track, 

To still the ache of her young son's heart, 
Or knowledge of God to her tribe impart. 

(For in ragged tent, as in queenly bower, 
A mother's love is the secret power 

That spans the gulf 'twixt heaven and hell, 
And standeth a sleepless sentinel!) 

" He is only a gipsy ! " somebody said ; 
An old man shook his grizzled head, 

And curled his lip in silent scorn 
Of one so alien, so meanly born. 

The hot blood flushed his tawny cheek 
As the urchin heard the old man speak; 

A strange wild thrill in his bosom stirred 
And sprang to life at the cruel word : 

For in the frame of that gipsy lad 
Slumbered the will of a Galahad ! 

69 



The Fields of Peace 



Who knoweth what Sangreal vision bright 
Quivered and gleamed in the misty light? 

Or what glimpse of glory filled his soul 
And turned his feet toward a shining goal ? 

Brave in the strength of innocent pride, 
He crossed the aisle with boyish stride, 

And kneeling, lifted his eyes' dark fire. 
Sweet with the passion of high desire: 

** Christ Jesus — you'll have to take me, now! 
Nobody else wants me ! " . . . the gipsy's vow 

To Christ; who answered his yearning cry. 
Rang through the vaults of Heaven high ; 

Around the world it echoes still, 

And moves men's hearts with magic thrill. 

For God came down to that chapel bare, 
And claimed His own, for service rare. 

(One dark-browed mother, dying, gave 
A ray of light from her lonely grave!) 

Now, praises to God be manifold, 
Who turneth the tinsel to purest gold! 

For that vagrant gipsy, the tinker's son, 
Thousands of souls to Christ hath won I 
70 



The Fields of Peace 



SIR GALAHAD 

Sir Galahad, Sir Galahad, 

Long years have sped 

Since you lay dead ; 
The Holy Grail hath vanished 

From mortal sight ; 

Pale is the light 
That shone o'er Camelot's tow^ers bright. 

No more is heard the martial sound 

Of knights vs^ho ride 

In boastful pride, 
With their good weapons fitly tried 

In many a bout 

With foes in rout, 
In tournaments, midst song and shout. 

No more in joust their spears they break ; 

Mute is the plea 

Of chivalry 
That echoed once o'er hill and lea; 

No more are seen, 

'Neath branches green, 
Sw^eet maidens clad in garments sheen. 

Yet ofttimes, fair Sir Galahad, 

As In a dream 

We catch the beam 
Of wistful, yearning eyes a-gleam ; 

On some young face 

Thine Image trace, 
White with the Sangreal's mystic grace ! 
71 



The Fields of Peace 



THE VISION OF EVE j 

Poor outcast Eve ! She sees the two-edged sword j 

That flames o'er Eden fair ! 

She shrinks and trembles, when Jehovah, Lord, j 

Walks in the Garden there. j 

Hers are the first tears mortal ever shed ; ' 

Hers the first sighs of grief; 
Hers the first blush of shame, that coursing red, i 

Burns deep, without relief, 

All her sweet body that, divinely pure, \ 

Hath graced the flowery dales, 
Unconscious of the hidden deadly lure. 

Secrete in Eden's vales ! 

And not the least of new-found misery. 

These craven words she hears : 
" The Woman that Thou gavest unto me " 

(Hears she the Serpent's jeers?) | 

" She gave me of the Tree " — so said the Man — 

"And I did eat!" Forgive, 
Jehovah, God, since 'twas Thy mighty plan \ 

That thus our race should live ! 

Perchance 'twas love that wrought the direful 

doom ! I 

If she, by lifted hand ' 

To pluck the fruit from out its od'rous bloom, .; 

All knowledge could command, \ 

72 i 



The Fields of Peace 



And from the mystery of future life 

Could wrest its veiled fate, 
High as th' immortal gods, with powers rife, 

Should stand her Heaven-sent mate! 



Too late, she learns the pangs of deep regret, 

Too late, reproach and fears! 
With arms outstretched, all her fair tresses wet 

With penitential tears, 

See our First-Mother, as she bows and kneels 

To her offended God ! 
Trembling beneath a load of guilt, she feels 

The sting of th' chastening rod ! 

Oh, piteous spectacle ! With sad eyes dim, 

Outside of Eden's gate. 
Abashed before the fiery Cherubim, 

In dumb despair she waits ! 

Her dear-bought knowledge — what a bitter taste 

On lips with honey fed ! 
With vision blurred, across the desert waste 

Sees she, aghast, one dead — 

Stark on the flinty ground, rigid and grim. 

Flesh of her flesh, her pride? 
A strange and unknown Thing, with bleared eyes 
dim, 
Bright hair in blood red-dyed ? 
73 



The Fields of Peace 



Sees she one fleeing from the face of God, j 

With glazed sight staring wide? ■ 

Was there no depth beneath the barren sod 1 

A brother's blood to hide ? \ 



In sorrow to conceive, in pain to bear, 

In bitterness to rear, 
Through nights of weariness and days of care, 

The end — this form of Fear ! 

On thy frail shoulders must this awful crime, 

Poor Eve, be laid in vain? 
Nay, from thy mother-love shall spring, sublime, 

Some balm for all thy pain ! 

Oh, Mother Eve, shudder that sight to see ! 

Fairest of fair wert thou 
In Eden's groves ! Alas, what pain to thee 

That beauteous body now! 

Low in the dust, where trails that sinuous shape, 

Loathsome, with pois'nous fangs, 
Dread symbol of the enemies agape, 

Shall mock thy bitterest pangs ! 

Forever and forever, through the years 

Dark with unnumbered woes, 
In grief and agony, with scorching tears, 

Woman shall face her foes ; 

Bare her white shoulder to the lash of scorn, 
Her smooth cheek meekly turn ; 
74 



Thie Fields of Peace 



In many a dreadful market-place, forlorn, 
.With shameful blushes burn ; 

Bear the harsh mockery of cruel smiles, 

And laughter, light as breath ; 
Quiver neath hands whose faintest touch defiles, 

Quick with the sting of death ! 

Lift thy fair head from out the dust, poor Eve! 

The vision changeth now ; 
Bright gleams of rosy light the darkness cleave, 

Suffusing thy pale bro.w. 

Look : having suffered thy full meed of shame. 

In some far-distant age 
Thou shalt behold strong daughters of thy name 

A wondrous conflict wage. 

A vast, triumphant host, with measured tread. 

Sweeping from zone to zone, 
The strong, the weak, the humble, the high-bred, 

Mysterious kinship own ; 

United in a bond of common zeal. 

Their oriflamme they raise, 
And, purged of petty weakness, seek to heal 

Wounds old as Sin's black days. 

Above the sighing of the Eden trees 

Their songs sonorous swell ; 
Arise, sad Eve, and let that music ease 

Thy heart, its fears to quell ! 
75 



The Fields of Peace 



For having lost thy garden, green and fair, 

The wilderness is thine. 
To water with thy tears, to plant with rare 

Sweet flowers of love divine. 

The hand that plucked the bright, forbidden fruit, 

In gentle ministry 
Shall tend each tiny bud, each tender shoot, 

Till thy posterity 

Shall cause the barren wilderness to bloom 

A fragrant Eden-bower, 
And the soft light of God's love shall illume 

Earth's evening hour ! 



76 



The Fields of Peace 



THE SIN EATER 

Queenlike she lies, robed in new garments white, 
All her soft hair a crown of burnished gold 
Bound round her pallid forehead, fold on fold; 

Close-shut the smiling eyes from the fair light 

Wherein I grope, as in the darkest night ! 
Her slender fingers in their fragile hold 
Clasp the grim symbol, mystical and old, 

The morsel offered in this last, sad rite. 

'* Who eats this bread for all her sin atones! '* 
Who says that she was false as she was fair? 

This tender flesh that wraps these rigid bones, 
Have I not shielded it with lover's care 

From the world's scorn ? Yea, e'en at death's dark 
verge 

My love-song drowns the mourners' tuneless dirge! 

Give me the bread ! Dost think that I could fear 
To take upon my soul, for this my dead, 
My darling one, all deeds of secret dread, 

All those frank sins that rendered her so dear? 

E'en though throughout my darkened life I hear 
A million curses hurtling o'er my head! 
With lips that tremble not, I take this bread 

Bitter to taste, sodden with many a tear ! 

Oh, love, thy soul mounts up to God, as free 
As any bird that wings the summer sky; 

For this my sacrifice, remember me. 

When I in turn shall lay me down to die! 

Thy sins, that on my heart I mutely bore. 

Shall they not plead for me at Heaven's bright door? 
77 



The Fields of Peace 



HONEYSUCKLES 

As I was walking down the street still pulsing in the 
humid heat, 
A magic sweetness filled the air, where honej^- 
suckles bloomed ; 
Tlie houses all stood straight and high, their tops 
against the amber sky. 
And o'er the distant wooded heights the purple 
twilight loomed. 

And as I walked, I met a girl, a shabby, tired work- 
ing girl ; 
Her feet upon the sun-baked pave lagged all too 
slow — too slow ; 
She looked at me with listless eye, her face it would 
have made you cry, 
For on her brow the brand of toil had fixed its 
blighting show. 

(Now I should premise, for a start, mine is no mel- 
ancholy heart ; 
The dragon's not my brother, and I do not like 
the owl ! 
Life has been kind to me, I ween; no harrowing 
troubles have I seen. 
And at my door the lean gray wolf was never 
heard to howl!) 

I spoke to her as fancy led, and these are just the 
words I said: 
" Oh, little maid, behind the wall the honey- 
suckles run; 

78 



The Fields of Peace 



,We cannot see their blossoms white, the red bricks 
hide them from our sight, 
But ah, the sweetness that they shed is free to 
everyone ! 

" And so it is with life, I think ; the cares from 
which we daily shrink 
Oft hide a kindly blessing, like the honeysuckles' 
smell." 
She looked at me with sad, sad eyes ; I saw a crystal 
tear-drop rise, 
There came a chill upon my heart, as o'er her 
cheek it fell. 

She answered not a single word, and yet within my 
heart there stirred 
The passion of a pity that was keener far than 
pain; 
In her eyes I saw the sorrows of life's grim and 
dread to-morrows. 
And the trembling of her pallid lips spoke meas- 
ureless disdain. . . . 

I watched her as she went her way and vanished 
with the fading day. 
Without a word, without a sign, yet tragic in her 
gloom ; 
And like the writing on the wall, I saw the dusky 
night-shades fall. 
And deadly grew the odor of the honeysuckles* 
bloom ! 

79 



The Fields of Peace 



"INDIAN SUMMER" 

Oh, the woods are red with autumn on the far Mis- 
souri hills, 

And the sunshine, veiled with vapors, all the mid- 
land valley fills; 

The orchard fruits are garnered, and the harvest 
fields are bare — 

Oh, to be in old Missouri, when 'tis Indian Summer 
there ! 



In the woods the nuts are falling with a faint and 
mystic sound. 

Like the clash of fairy cymbals, as they tinkle on the 
ground. 

Making music for the dances of the drifting leaves, 
aflare 

With the crimson and the scarlet in a glorious tan- 
gle rare ! 

They are grinding out the cider in a thousand amber 
streams ; 

The wild grapes hang in clusters, dark with red and 
purple gleams; 

The persimmon and the paw-paw spread their fra- 
grance everywhere — 

Oh, no season of the cycle can with Autumn's grace 



compare ! 



80 



The Fields of Peace 



All the world is full of beauty ; golden glories clothe 

the land 
In a robe of gorgeous splendor, stirred by breezes 

soft and bland; 
But 'neath earth's cerulean heavens nowhere is the 

day so fair 
As it is in old Missouri, when the Indian Summer's 

there ! 

Oh, you exiles in far cities, don't you feel your pulses 
stir 

With a rush of loyal ardor, at this season of the year, 

When amid the alien grandeur you a homesick mo- 
ment spare, 

To remember old Missouri, when 'tis Indian Sum- 
mer there? 

THE RED CROSS NURSE 

I have turned aside from the world and its pride, 

The strength of my love to prove ; 
I have set my pace to a wonderful race, 

With feet that are swift to move — 
Be it soon or late, to serve or to wait — 

At the call of the terrified. 

Through flood and flame, in the Master's name, 

Comfort and help I bring; 
My mission blest is to offer rest 

And peace to the suffering; 
I give no heed to rank or to creed; 

I look not askance at shame. 
8i 



The Fields of Peace 



On the wreck-strewn trail of the howling gale, j 

I hasten with warmth and cheer; j 

O'er the shrouded head of the mangled dead i 

I bend with a pitying tear ; ! 

To famine's white lip my cup I slip ; I 

I quiet the mourner's wail. 

In the wake of the knell of hurtling shell, 

The clangor of crashing steel, , 

My watch I keep where the wounded sleep, 

And the dead lie heel to heel ; 
I speed the soul to its happy goal, 

A tireless sentinel. , 

From East to West on my merciful quest 

I follow the Red Cross far; 

Under Southern skies I have seen it rise; | 

It glows 'neath the Northern star; J 

Its crimson sign is a badge divine, '\ 

My cognizance and crest. j 



j 
8^ J 



The Fields of Peace 



A WOMAN OF FRANCE 

She bound her hair in a golden braid and pinned her 

kerchief white ; 
Her face was sweet with ruddy strength, her eyes 

with joy were bright. 

She took her babe from his cradle-bed and tied his 

knitted shoon : 
" I hear the tramp of our soldiers' feet — they pass 

this way at noon ; 

" Wake, little son, for thy father dear must see thy 

face to-day ! " 
Then swift at the sound of the trumpet blast she 

bore the babe away. 

Lovely she stood mid the eager crowd, (her rapt 
glance ran like flame 

Seeking one face in the blue-bloused ranks) mur- 
muring one name. 

The babe laughed out in his infant glee and clutched 

a banner's fringe ; 
Blue, white and red, its shifting folds hid many a 

bloody tinge! 

Bearded and gaunt, with lips firm-set, young faces 

so grave and old — 
Not age, but pain its dread mark stamped on th* 

front of those soldiers bold. 

83 



The Fields of Peace 



Pierre and Jean and Ramon Dupuy, Louis — all 

friends of years, 
They turned aside from that questing face. What 

meant those sudden tears ? 

But one stepped out from the marching ranks and 

bowed his grizzled head : 
" My girl, be brave, for thy country's sake! — Thy 

good man — he is dead ! 

" Bravely he fell in the battle-front on Verdun's 

ghastly field; 
Many there were to keep that tryst — but never a 

man to yield! 

" Weep not, dear girl! Thy baby here hath a heri- 
tage of fame; 

Thine be the task to see that he keeps unstained that 
honored name ! " 

A moment she shrank from the cruel stroke, cold 

'neath the blazing sun. 
Then high o'er head in her strong young arms she 

raised her little one 

And held him there, like an oriflamme, a sign of 

royal pride ; 
Her voice rang clear as a bugle's note, and : " Vive 

la France! " she cried. 

Oh, happy France, when for thy dear sake thy 

daughters offer up 
The very blood of their loyal hearts, and drinking, 

bless the cup ! 

84 



The Fields of Peace 



Thrice happy thou, O land beloved ! Soon may thy 
sorrows cease, 

Soon may thy flag float high and free, and thy chil- 
dren rest in peace ! 



THE WHISTLER AND HIS DOG 

Comrade of many a^ joyous hour. 

What time I went by wood and stream, 
Or, 'neath some shady sylvan bower, 

Lay, wrapped in youth's elusive dream; 
Here come we to the parting ways, 

No more to wander, glad and free; 
Another friend shall fill your days. 

Whilst strange adventures beckon me. 

If, on some distant battlefield, 

Wounded and faint the Whistler lies, 
May fevered fancy gently yield 

A vision of your friendly eyes! 
Above the noise of hurtling shell, 

And shrapnel screaming in the dark, 
Perchance he'll hear yon evening bell. 

And the glad echo of your bark ! 



85 



The Fields of Peace 



VICTORS OF THE MARNE 

They say that scarlet poppies bloom and nod 
In gay profusion o'er that shell-scarred plain 
Where late the feet of wrestling armies trod, 
And streams of crimson drenched the avid sod - 
The blood of heroes for their country slain ! 

And for each scarlet poppy glowing there, 
Flame-like, as on an altar richly spread, 
We count, on beads of tears, a yearning prayer, 
That on the day of Judgment, grand and fair, 
The poor maimed bodies of the blessed dead 

May rise, a shining host, all glory-clad. 
And o'er the fields of Heaven ranging free. 
Find each its shriven soul, that once it had. 
Cleansed of the earth and all its mem'ries sad : 
Dying, had they not deathless victory? 



86 



SONNETS 
" IN ETERNAL MEMORY " 



The Fields of Peace 



" IN ETERNAL MEMORY " 

Father, beloved, whilst I was yet a child, 
And all unskilled in life's deceitful art, 
Long ere my feet had trodden earth's dull mart, 

Beholding thee, so tender and so mild, 

By taint of sin and wrong so undefiled, 
I placed thine image in a niche apart, 
Where, like a saint enshrined within my heart, 

Its gracious presence curbed all passions wild. 

Far-drifting years have circled o'er my head. 
Since thou wert numbered with the holy dead, 
Still thy dear likeness keeps its sacred place, 
Unspoiled by flight of time ; its peaceful face, 
Serene and tranquil, daily grows more bright, 
In the soft radiance of love's clear light. 

No fierce ambition stirred thy gentle soul. 
Nor marred with vain regrets thy placid days ; 
Thine was the charm of quiet, shaded ways, 

And the sweet recompense of love thy toll. 

With eyes fast fixed on Heaven's promised goal, 
Which like a silver star shed its fair rays 
Guiding thy steps along life's tangled maze, 

Thy spirit harbored naught of greed or dole. 

Thy steadfast heart no guile nor anger knew; 

Thy ministrations, like the manna-dew 
That fed the hungry in the wilderness. 
Cheered many a burdened soul ; to heal, to bless, 

A task supreme, ever thy life's high aim. 

Till in the midnight dim, thy summons came. 

89 



The Fields of Peace 



Not with alarm or fear, in that dark hour, 
Like a poor slave that dreads his tyrant's call, 
And looks on death as a most dismal pall, 

Wherein the flitting soul doth shrink and cower, 

Abashed before that stern and awful Power ; 
But as a home-returning heir receiveth all 
The blest rewards that to the faithful fall, 

Thy spirit passed to claim its blissful dower. 

" Thou good and loyal servant, ever blest. 

Enter thou into thy eternal rest ! " 
So having lived a life of humble trust, 
And seen, with eyes of faith, beyond the rust 

Of earth and time, thy treasures heaped above, 

Thy soul hath perfect grown in God's great love. 
December ii, 191 6. 



THE OLD HOUSE 

As one, long humbled, gains a quiet grace, 
And in decay becomes more gravely sage. 
Its gray roof stained by many a storm, and age 

Wrinkling its warped front, like a human face 

Where Time hath set indelibly his trace, 

The old house stood ; despite of winter's rage, 
A home where Love did dwell, a pleasant cage 

Which little nestling found a happy place. 

Now in my dreams I often visit there. 
And by the hearthstone sit, and through the door 
90 



The Fields of Peace 



Look out upon the vistas, far and fair, 

Radiant with summer's glow, or white with hoar. 
And when the dream is fled, and I awake, 
With what sweet longing doth my sad heart ache ! 



A SUMMER NIGHT 

The ancient trees stand motionless, and still 
Each drooping, folded leaf as if asleep; 
The watchful stars their kindly vigil keep; 

The wind across the distant purple hill 

Scarce stirs the ripples of the tiny rill. 

Whose silvery, glancing waves unrufliled creep, 
And through dank grasses sinking, softly seep, 

The thirsty rootlets' hourly need to fill. 

There darting fireflies flash their vivid light 

Mid the dim shadows of the noiseless night, 
And the sad whip-poor-will makes constant moan ; 

The evening planet with a soft light glows ; 

There floats the scent of the sweet brier-rose. 
That blooms beneath the window-sill alone. 



91 



The Fields of Peace 



THE LITTLE WOOD 

There is a little, leafy, wooded place, 
Deep set within the forest's mighty verd, 
Its silence broken by the warbling bird 

That wings its happy flight through the green space, 

Or stoops to drink at some low-murmuring race. 
Through sun-shot dusk the dove's soft note is 

heard ; 
By fragrant winds the drooping leaves are stirred; 

There laughing Summer cools her flushed, sweet 
face. 

Oh, would that I might tread again that dell, 
To pluck the purple heart 's-ease from its bed ! 

There, taking comfort from each fluttering leaf 
That dances as with mirth its joy to tell, 

Life might become to me a thing less dread; 

A little while I might forget my grief ! 



92 



The Fields of Peace 



"LORD, WHITHER GOEST THOU?" 

Lord, whither goest thou? This path is steep 
For feet unused to rough and stony ways! 
See, far across yon valley's golden haze 

A broad road winds, and murmuring waters creep 

Along green fields where scarlet poppies sleep! 
Lord, let me linger, if 'tis but to gaze 
With wistful longing toward that shining maze 

Where music soundeth, and no sad eyes weep ! 

Dear Master, look not on me with that glance 
Commingled of rebuke and love supreme! 

I will forego those pleasures, that entrance 
My wayward senses, like a blissful dream, 

To follow ever where thou leadest me. . . . 

Yea, Lord, e'en though to darksome Calvary! 



93 



The Fields of Peace 



THE POTTER'S WHEEL ! 

If, by the turning of the Potter's wheel, '' 

A vessel unto honor made shall be i 

The consummation of my destiny; | 

If, like to gold, or silver, he anneal j 

And fashion this poor clay for earthly weal ; 

If in the House of Life the high decree j 

Doth place me there for uses glad and free, j 

Meet for the Master's service, wrought with zeal, i 

All blessed were my lot! But if, perchance, 
Of dull brown earth, or wood, or common stone, 

With naught of blazonry, or glint of gold, 

The Potter's hand doth shape life's circumstance. 

Shall not His wisdom and His love atone. 

If thus I serve His purpose manifold ? ! 

" BEAUTY FOR ASHES " I 

Ah, me! how terrible and strange 

This life of ours, wherein we see ' 

Enwrought so much of misery! j 

So many evil things that range I 

Our gladsome world, and straitly change j 

To wails our choicest songs of glee ! i 

But shall we question God's decree, j 

And tremble, lest harsh thoughts estrange 
Us from His gracious love and care? 

Behold, what flowers of beauty rare ' 

God in his mercy makes to grow ] 

From the dead ashes of our woe! 
And from the sackcloth's rough embrace 

Fashions for us garments of praise! j 

94 



The Fields of Peace 



O LORD, SEND PEACE! 

O Lord, send peace! Behold what deeds of shame 
Stain Thy fair lands with blood and lire and 

crime I 
War's deadly fury drowns the peaceful chime 

Of Christmas bells ringing Thy holy name ; 

The far horizons glow with crimson flame; 
But no angelic hosts, with songs sublime, 
Greet those sad watchers in the frozen rime, 

Too sad for words to utter — " Whose the blame ? " 

The little children's wails, the widows' tears, 

The ruined homes, once gay with youthful mirth, 
The sacrifice of nations' fruitful years, — 

All call upon Thee from this groaning earth : 
Have pity, Lord, for all the grief that sears 

This sacred day that celebrates Thy birth! 

December, 19 14. 



95 



The Fields of Peace 



HINC ILLM LACHRIMiE 

One writes to me from out the distant West, — 
Scarce can I comprehend the message dread, 
Or read aright the words, " Our friend is dead! " 

Gone, is she, to that sweet and final rest. 

Where she shall dwell forever as the guest 
Of God? As I recall scenes vanished 
Beyond the veil of Time, my thoughts are led 

To greet in memory her I loved the best. 

Full tender was thy gentle heart, and sweet. 
And fragrant with the incense of kind deeds; 

And all thy earthly life was full of love; 

Thou with the soft voice of the woodland dove, 
Worthy wert thou our blessed ones to greet, 
Who long have passed beyond earth's utmost needs! 

Dear friend of girlhood's rosy, halcyon days, 
Dost thou now look with pity, angel-wise. 
From out the blue of Heaven's eternal skies, 

Regarding me, who still in toilsome ways 

Must plod alone, glad of the sunset rays 
Which oft my pathway dim do visualize 
My dreams of that fair land, that Paradise, 

Glowing beyond my raptured, tranced gaze? 

Oh, soon may dawn for me that morning fair 
When I shall cast aside this mask of clay, 

Which now doth hide from me that golden light 
Which gilds thy face, across Death's darkling 
night ; 
Then shall we walk together, free from care, 
Glad spirits, treading the Celestial Way! 

96 



The Fields of Peace 



MIRAGE : 

The gray and silent years, how still they stand, 

Like haggard ghosts betwixt thy heart and mine! \ 

Above each shrouded head pale haloes shine; ■ 

Roses lie withered in each shrunken hand ; 

And my dull hfe, that might have been so grand, \ 

Sweet with fond hopes and rich with purpose fine, ' 

Stretches around me without guide or sign, " 

A desert waste, a pathless, barren strand! 

Love, beyond the desert's lonely spaces. 

Lift up thine eyes, and look, if thou canst see J 
A mirage of young and ardent faces. 

As when we fared together merrily, i 

Long ere we met those spectres of dead years, ! 

Or felt the cold rain of regretful tears ! , 

\ 



97 



The Fields of Peace 



RECOMPENSE 
To " J. D. B." 

Have the slow years been empty of delight, 

That, missing the one thing in life long sought, 
Time's recompenses give unto thee naught 

But the wan largess of contentment trite? 

Or hast thou from them, in their hasty flight. 
Wrested thy meed of joy, whilst thou hast 

wrought 
So nobly at thy task, and haply caught 

Some radiance of the glory infinite? 

In the soft eyes of Mem'ry seest thou 

A bright reflex of many a glad day 
Ere Care had set her imprint on thy brow. 

And Love's sweet roses faded with the May? 
This solace still the flitting years assure: 
That good deeds, done with faith, fore'er endure! 



98 



The Fields of Peace 



STARSHINE 

As when some fair star drifts beyond the ken 
Of pensive eyes watching — but all in vain ! — 
To see it rise once more o'er hill and glen 
Glorious mid th' effulgent heavenly train 
Of myriad orbs that, thro' th' empyrean blue 
In moonless midnight move with solemn pace, 
And for a moment seem to weep, like dew, 
Tears for the splendor of its vanished grace; 
So have I seen some cherished friendship glow, 
Starbright, above my life's horizon rim, 
And wept because its soft rays, sinking low, 
Have left my world in sudden twilight dim: 

Nor found I any joy that its pure light 
Illumes the darkness of far orient night. 



99 



QBALLADS AND SONGS OF THE 
SOUTHLAND 



The Fields of Peace 



SEMPER FIDELIS 

The sword and spear that in brave hands, and 
strong, 
In vengeance w^rought their tale of blood and 

doom. 
And thro' dark days of sorrow, tears and gloom, 
Flashed o'er our land, red harbingers of wrong; 
Stilled to dumb silence youth's most gladsome song; 
Shattered to barren wastes fields once abloom 
With buds and flowers, that in war's deadly 
spume 
Withered and died, (as died our hopes, ere long!) ; 

These instruments of war thine eyes now see 
Shaped to the usages of peaceful toil; 

The pruning hook that crops the fruitful tree, 
The plough that sharply turns the dusky soil. 

Oh, may they ne'er desert their kindly arts. 

Snatched by bold hands to pierce our tranquil 
hearts ! 

Oh, well may children's children of thy land 
Weep for the deeds and glory of their race! 
Triumphant warriors ! Their names we trace 

In Fame's clear heaven, a constellation grand, 

Still shining from afar, a radiant band ; 
Nor hate, nor malice shall one star eiface. 
Nor dim the splendor of their warlike grace, 

Where, like the clustering Pleiades they stand I 
103 



The Fields of Peace 



From their high courage, and their steadfast hope, 
We, too, may learn life's battle-shocks to meet; 

Whilst with a host of unseen foes we cope, 
And all the future looks one black defeat, 

So out of seeming failure (e'en as they), 

We glimpse the dawning of God's perfect day ! 

Forever loved and honored be thy name. 

Who, when the fires of youth burned softly 

bright. 
Embraced with ardent zeal the cause of Right, 

And thro' long years of battle, and of shame, 

(Because thy country's foes her strength did maim. 
And in their cruel triumph mocked her plight) 
Hath struggled hard to end the bitter fight. 

And fratricidal strife and pride to tame; 

Now that old flames of passion flicker low. 
And foes once more in brotherhood have met. 

May thine uplifted eyes discern the glow 
That sweetest shines when the red sun is set ; 

And as thy land beloved once more hath rest, 

So may thy closing days with peace be blest ! 

And if sad Memory sometimes turns her gaze 
Adown the years that lie, like autumn leaves, 
Bright on thy threshold, see thy spirit grieves 

No more, nor mourns its dear, lost days. 

Lost? Nay, but pluck them for thy crown of bays! 
Or bind them in a wreath of bearded sheaves. 
That stalk by stalk, its fragrant fruitage weaves, 

A beauteous whole, outstretched, a golden maze! 
104 



The Fields of Peace 



So when the Reaper, with his sickle keen, 
At dewy morn, or in the blazing noon, 

Comes with swift steps thy fertile fields to glean, 
Thou shalt not fear to seek thy rightful boon ; 

But, constant in thy small, as mighty tasks, 

Eternal rest thy faithful service asks. 

To Hilary A. Herbert, 
on the occasion of his 
seventy-ninth birthday, 
March 12, 1913. 

"SUNSET AFTER APPOMATTOX" 

'Tis done! The fateful words are said! 

Furled is that flag for which men died. 
For which in streams their blood they shed ; 

From many a vale and mountain-side 
On it they turned their glazing eyes. 
And blest it with their dying sighs. 

Where the sad Appomattox slips 

Through wooded banks, with murmured flow, 
The hosts of Lee with trembling lips 

Whisper his name, then turn to go 
Toward ruined homes, and hearts that bleed 

With anguish, in this hour of need ! 

Homeward the soldier takes his way. 
With lagging step and mournful pace; 

Beneath his tattered coat of gray 
His heart lies cold ; his warworn face 
105 



The Fields of Peace 



Is set in lines of stern despair, 

iWhere once Youth smiled, all debonair. 

No clouds of war, no battle smoke, 
Dim the sweet sunset's rosy light, 

Where, seated on a storm-rent oak, 

The great Commander rests, till night; 

His faithful war-horse by his side. 

Stands near him, still alert with pride. 

Alone ! What visions throng and press 
Across the mirror of his soul ? 

Traced in dark lines of bitter stress, 
Do serried ranks of battle roll ? 

Or sees he, in that solemn hour, 

A vision of God's wondrous power? 

With eyes that pierce beyond the gloom, 
Beyond the wreck of hopes now dead. 

Beyond those bright rays that illume 
With roseate hues that grand gray head, 

Perchance he sees the new day rise, 
Flashing athwart the Southern skies! 



io6 



The Fields of Peace 



THE SPIRIT OF THE SOUTH TO HER 
DEAD HEROES 

I am the spirit of that land, beloved and glorious, 

For which you died ; 
I watched and wept, whilst hand to hand, fiery, vic- 
torious. 

You stood, with pride 

On many a hard-won battlefield; midst anguish, 
pain and death, 
And cannon's roar, 
'Mid hurtling shell, I saw you yield with joy your 
latest breath, 
A precious store ! 

Your women and your children dear, you kissed 
them, and away 
With eager heart 
You turned, to face long years and drear, peril, de- 
feat, delay, — 
The soldier's part. 

And 'twas not honor and bright fame, nor warrior 
rank and power 
Alone you sought, 
iWhen by the camp-fire's ruddy flame, at midnight's 
lonely hour. 
Brief rest you caught; 

Dreaming of home, of loved ones sweet (mothers at 
prayer, who kneel 
[With outstretched arms, 
107 



The Fields of Peace 



And eyes whose piteous glances fleet the brooding 
stars reveal, 
With sick alarms; 

Who hear in every breeze of morn the noise of clash- 
ing blades, 
In deadly fray; 
The music of the bugle horn in dim and distant 
glades, 
At break of day; 

Seeing in every sunset's blaze the fires of burning 
homes, 
Where sad hearts break ; 
Loving, as only mothers love, the soldier-boy v^^ho 
roams ! ) 
Asleep, awake. 

These were the visions that endured through days of 
want and care. 
And sore distress; 
This was the glory that inured your strength to db 
and dare. 
In hard duress. 

Oh, never more let foeman's voice cry out in angry 
scorn, 
Mocking your woes ! 
Forever let the world rejoice, till Resurrection's 
morn 
All feuds shall close, 

io8 



The Fields of Peace 



Seeing that out of pain and strife your courage rose 
sublime, 
Each shock to meet ; 
That through the dusk of failures rife your stainless 
honor's prime 
Brooked not defeat! 

Oh, weep no more your soldier-dead, land of my 
pride and love! 
Their sleep is sound. 
Pure as the marble at the head, bright as the skies 
above 
Each lonely mound, 

Their spirits animate our trust, their brave deeds 
ring afar, 
From South to North; 
Treasures that know nor moth nor rust, flowers no 
frost can mar, 
Priceless their worth 1 



logi 



The Fields of Peace 



THE HOUSE WHERE STONEWALL 
JACKSON DIED 

Mid fair Virginia's gently swelling plains, 
Where once the roar of battle shook the hills, 

Unique amongst all consecrated fanes, 

Quaint with a beauty that inspires and thrills, 

There stands a little house, with roof-tree low, 
And white walls gleaming 'neath the summer 
skies. 
By what swift magic does it bring the glow 
Of rev'rent wonder to our eager eyes? 

" Whose is that humble cot? " I asked of one; 

And with a glance of ardor he replied. 
In the soft speech that marks the Southland's son: 

"^ That is the house where Stonewall Jackson 
died/'' 

Then I bethought me of that mournful day 
When over all this smiling, happy land 

The darkness of a tragic sorrow lay, 

As "Stonewall's" sword fell from his stricken 
hand. 

When from the field they bore their hero-chief, 
His blood-stained warriors wept with bitter rage; 

His dying eyes saw through the mirk of grief 
Green trees of Heav'n, with verdant foliage, 
no 



The Fields of Peace 



*' Let us pass over the River " — he sighed, 

" And rest under the shade — the shade of the 
trees ! " 

As he had lived, most valiantly he died, 

With childlike faith in God's divine decrees. 

In vain we questioned through the long, sad years, 
Why the just God of battles willed it so, 

And heeded not the anguish and the tears, 

And the sick hearts that shrank beneath that blow. 

>But as the smoke of conflict cleared away. 

And sweet-browed Peace came with her message 
blest. 
Slowly we learned to lift our eyes, and say : 

" Thy way, O God, not ours — for Thine is 
best!" 

So, little house beside the dusty road. 

Cherish for aye the memory and the pride, 

So strangely by an unseen Power bestowed, 

Dear little house, where Stonewall Jackson died ! 



Ill 



The Fields of Peace 



THE LAST REVIEW 

1917 

Oh, now, honey, don't say that! 

I've simply got to go! 
I don't care if the sun is hot! 
I don't care if it rains, or not — 

I'll wear my old gray hat! 'j 

Why, all the " boys " will be right there ] 

Marching in that Parade! \ 

The brave old Johnny Rebs ! They say j 

Some Yanks, even, are going to play — ji 

'T will be a grand affair! j 

Of course, I'm not so very spry, i 

Not like in sixty-one! 
I'm old and lame, my suit ain't nice, 
(I wore it when I fought with Price) 

But I've got one good eye — 

I want to see them blamed old Yanks 

Along the Avenue ! \ 

They aren't so bad! A Rebel yell, ■ 

And how they used to run, pell-mell! 

We played 'em lots of pranks ! 

Your Grandma said I was too young : 

To join the boys in gray; 
When they came marching through the town, 
I got my Pa's old rifle down 

From where it always hung, j 

112 



The Fields of Peace 



Above the chimney-place. Ma tried, 

And so did Little Sis! 
But I just had to go. ... A man 
Has got to do the best he can 

To save his manly pride ! 

I kissed them both good-bye, and went 

Away with Price's men. 
Missouri's sons had sprung to arms, 
From city streets, and lonely farms. 

They joined our regiment. 

When, worn with conflict and defeat. 

Outnumbered two to one, 
We scattered from the old Brigade, 
On many a Southern field we made 

Amends for old retreat. 

At red Shiloh, in sixty-two, 

I served with Beauregard ; 
For two days, in that ring of fire. 
Comrade and friend I saw expire, 

Dying like heroes true. 

But I got shot in that grim fight. 

And laid by for awhile ; 
Then, afterwards, in sixty-three, 
I journeyed South and went with Lee, 

Beloved and blameless knight! 

Down South, I met your lovely Ma, 
My own Evalina! 

113 



The Fields of Peace 



With one glance from her dark blue eyes, 
She took my whole heart for a prize ! 
Pretty! I never saw 

A prettier girl ! And she cried, too, 

And said her heart would break ! 
But still. ... I went away with Lee ! | 

The Captain of a company, j 

I'd sworn to see him through! j 



I saw great " Stonewall " when he fell; 

I shared the bitter woe 
That swept the hearts of all the corps, 
As break the waves from shore to shore, 

In a great ocean-swell. 

At Gettysburg, along the James, 

The Crater, Richmond dear, 
Slowly the mournful end drew nigh; 
We saw our dauntless soldiers die — 

How glorious their names! 

When in that black night of despair. 

The Starry Cross went down, 
The face of our loved leader shone, 
A new star in the dusk, alone. 

Serene, and bright, and fair. 

" We've fought through th' war together, men! 

I've done my best for you! " 
A noble chieftain to the last, 
We wept around him as he passed 

Sadly adown the glen. . . . 
114 



The Fields of Peace 



Marse Robert! Ah, we loved him! Still 

This Old heart feels the glow ; 

That burned in each young soldier's breast, , 

As, day by day, we forward pressed, ; 

Eager to do his will! j 

Honey, your young heart cannot know 

How terrible it was, \ 

To watch our ragged, broken ranks, j 

Along the Appomattox' banks, \ 

Surrendered to the foe! \ 

'T is true, our enemies were kind ] 

On that sad April day! \ 

Their silent chieftain, calm and grave, .; 

Had due respect for warriors brave, 

And showed a gen'rous mind. j 



Well, God knew best! . . . Your Grandma said, 

When I came tramping home : 
" Son, put away the old gray coat, 
And wait until you've had one vote! 

You are too young to wed ! " 

But four hard years of storm and stress 

Had taught me patience, too! 
We all had need of courage strong. 
To save our land from deadly wrong. 

Our people from duress ! 
115 



The Fields of Peace 



Now, God be thanked, our task is done! 

We've proved our loyalty ! 
If foreign foes our land bestead, 
The son of many an old Confed 

Will " stand behind the gun." 

Listen ! I hear the drums, the fife — 

The bugle's silver call! 
Oh, comrades, comrades, brave and true, 
We meet in this our Grand Review, 

In th' twilight hour of life; 

And though we falter on the way, 

With feeble steps and slow, 
Dim eyes will brighten through the tears, 
Old hearts beat bravely mid the cheers 

That greet our Boys in Gray! 



ii6 



The Fields of Peace 



THE BLOCKADE RUNNER 

It was the Carolina, from Bermuda, in the South; 
She hoisted high the Stars and Bars and left the 
harbor mouth, 

A long, low, side-wheel steamer, loaded down with 
contraband, 

Bound across the sunlit ocean for her loved, be- 
leaguered land. 

Oh, a brave man was her captain, and brave men 
made her crew, 

For it takes stout-hearted seamen to run the block- 
ade through. 

And brave, too, were the women who risked their 

lives to sail 
On this outlawed, rebel steamer, with the Yankees 

on her trail. 

She has left the land behind her, the green billows 

sweep ahead; 
At night beneath the glowing stars her smoke-stacks 

flame, blood-red. 

By day beyond her mast-head a trail of black smoke 
streams. 

And where her gray hull plows the deep the glanc- 
ing seaweed gleams. 

117 



The Fields of Peace 



It is gay upon the ocean as we breast the racing 

foam, 
Till far across the breakers shine the beacon lights 

of home! 

But watchful Yankee cruisers lying close along the 

bar, 
Swoop like hungry birds of prey sighting carrion 

from afar. 

Looming dimly in the dawn, sails wide-spread, they 

circle near ; 
We can see their rockets' trail 'gainst the dark line 

of Cape Fear. 

Oh, it was a merry chase — shot and shell flew thick 

and fast, 
Fell like hail upon the deck, till the sailors stood 

aghast. 

As the Carolina swerved, *' Lighten ship! '* the cap- 
tain cried ; 

And the crew began to cast bales and bundles o'er 
the side. 

Then the women wept to see such a direful sacrifice, 
For the Carolina bore secret treasures, beyond price. 

There was a girl amongst them, a fair, young, gentle 

maid. 
Cool mid the heat of battle, calm, heroic, unafraid. 
ii8 



The Fields of Peace 



Loudly over the tumult she could hear the captain's 

call: 
" They've got us, lads, I fear me — shall we let 

the colors fall ? " 

The crevr, afright, made answer " Yes ! " He 

turned, but in his path 
Stood this fearless Southern maid, eyes ablaze with 

holy wrath. 

High she held a flaming torch, and she spoke with 

hurried breath: 
" If you dare to touch that flag, this shall be your 

guide to death! 

" Those stores of precious bounty were meant to aid 

our soldier-braves — 
Before they shall be taken I will sink them *neath 

the waves! 

" Rather shall this torch be plunged in yon powder^s 

cold black mass. 
And our souls, for country's honor, to our God in 

glory pass ! " 

Oh, but she was fair of face! and her courage rose 

sublime ; 
Her sweet voice pierced the turmoil like a far-off, 

silvery chime. 

She seemed, that pallid maiden, with her fiery torch 

held high. 
An angel, sent from heaven; and the weary sailors 

cry: 

119 



The Fields of Peace 



*' Never shall our colors fall at the enemy's be- 
hest!" 

Back they spring to gun and yard, valor burning in 
each breast. 

With eager hands they speed the ship through the 
flying scud and spray ; 

Fast and faster still she flies, and they hear the cap- 
tain say: 

*' Boys, wt'W take our chances now!" then with 

skill they clear the bar, 
While the sullen foemen send one last shot, that 

strikes a spar. 

But what matters that to her? A bold blockade 

runner, she 
Rests within the port of Home, with her flag still 

flying free! 



I20 



The Fields of Peace 



BILL STUBBS, OF NORFOLK 

Bill Stubbs, of Norfolk, he up an' said \ 

(A-standin' on a fence he was) : I 

" ril stand by my colors, cap'n! I promised Sis! J 

An' you-all fellows may be sure of this — \ 

I'll stand by my colors till I'm dead! " , 

That was just before the end had come; j 

" Marse Bob " was sorely pressed; i 

There was talk of trouble and of woe, j 

And some men said as they would go \ 

Back to their folksj at home. ' 

I tell you, friend, 'twas an awful day j 

For us boys who was foUowin' Lee! ^ 

So tired we slept as we marched along; 

There was no more laughin', no more song; 
Nobody had a word to say. 

Our feet they was bare, and mighty sore 1 

We hadn't eat a bite all day! j 

An' I saw the boys all so bent and worn, j 

Their old gray jackets stained and torn, ' 

An' a sight was the hats they wore! 

An' some, they took an' dropped out o' rank, 

'Cause rations was so mighty sca'ce — j 

A drink of water and a bit o' dry bread, i 

An' a stone on the ground, for to lay yo' head, ] 

Und'neath a brush heap, or a bank. 

121 ^ 



The Fields of Peace 



But Bill Stubbs, of Norfolk, we-all heard him 

say, 

A-standin' an* a-wavin' of his hand : 
*' My dear little sister, she's that brave. 
She'd rather see me cold in my grave, 

Than to go a-straggling off that a-way ! " 

So w^e went a-ploddin' on, 'cause, friend, 

We-all said that Lee knew best. 
Though we wept when he furled the Stars and 

Bars, 
Yet we felt thro* the sting of unhealed scars, 

.We had " stood by our colors," to the end! 



122 



The Fields of Peace 



THE HOME LAND 

Oh, the home land is the land we love! 

Gray are the skies that brood above 

The drifting snows of the hardy North, 

Where from midland and seashore we hurry forth, 

On the path where honor and duty lead, : 

To a stricken world in its bitter need; — \ 

But the home land — '^ 

Our dear land — 
The home land is the land we love! 

Where the moonlight falls in golden gleams ■ 

Over orange groves and whispering streams; j 

Where the mockingbird in the jasmine bowers \ 

Chants of love through the drowsy hours, i 

Sons of the men who wore the gray, .i 

Rank on rank, we have marched away \ 

From the home land, j 

The dear land; 

Oh, the home land is the land we love! j 

From mountain and desert, from ranch and plain, i 

From search for pleasure and hope of gain ; ^ 

From mine and from forest, from river and hill, 

The men of the West — they are coming still. 

Ours is the faith of a glorious prize 

That we see in the future, with steadfast eyes, 

For the home land. 

Our dear land; 
The home land, the land we love! > 

123 1 



The Fields of Peace 



When we've looked our last on the clear home lights, 

As the troop ship glides through the solemn nights; 

Should we feel in the dark the stealthy blow — J 

The thrust of a savage and cruel foe — ! 

Calmly we'll die, if need there be, ! 

And our young lives offer for Liberty ' 

And the home land, i 

The dear land — \ 

For the home land is the land we love ! 



If, braving all perils by shell and fire, j 

.We see the end of our long desire, ' 

And look with pride on a world restored j 

By the might of our swift avenging sword; j 

With a sigh for our dead in their lonely graves, [ 
We'll steer our course o'er the bounding waves, 

To the home land, ' 

Our dear land — j 

Our home land — the land we love ! | 



I 
124 



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